The Tale of Abaddon and Uriel
by NortheasternWind
Summary: A poor choice of words gives Abaddon and Uriel a loophole with which to legalize their love, but the quest will take them deep into the jaws of Hell and force them to face its terrible lord himself.
1. Prologue

Hello and welcome! For this particular fandom this is only my second fanfic and I usually stick with oneshots, but then I had an idea that I just couldn't pass up. This entire fic is going to be one big love note to another famous story of star-crossed lovers, and if you've heard that story you should be able to recognize it by the end of this short chapter. I promise future installments will be less stuffy too, it just felt right for the set-up.

Canonically speaking I get the feeling the White City would just say NO and throw Abaddon out without bothering to cleave to their 'word,' but that doesn't exactly make a good story so bear with me here. Naturally, this takes place before the games proper. I promise there will be Horsemen.

 **Prologue**

Abaddon came before the lawgivers of Heaven with a mask of determination set upon his brow, and before he spoke they knew this would be a trying session.

"Comrades!" he began, calling out with a booming voice. "I gather you here today to speak of a subject which has brought joy and sorrow in equal measure to our White City."

"Joy and sorrow have never been our concern," one said from above, but Abaddon ignored them.

"Long have I contented myself with solitude and the easy camaraderie between comrades-in-arms, but no longer. I wish to wed Uriel, lieutenant-general of the Hellguard, and humbly as your leave to do so."

The reaction was immediate, and expected.

"Humbly indeed! You know well and good our answer."

"Uriel is my right hand," Abaddon said. "She would inherit the leadership of the Hellguard upon my death, and it is not a crime to love one so close in rank to yourself."

"Unless it was you who gave that rank in the first place," he was reminded. "If she had come into her post through the death of her predecessor there would be no concern, but you were the one who promoted her."

"And I would again! Even if I knew then what she would become to me. She is far and away the best of the Hellguard," Abaddon argued, "and it would have been foolish and unlawful to withhold from her the position she deserves because of my feelings."

"It certainly would have," another angel agreed. "Just as it would be unlawful to pursue her now, in defiance of our laws."

"Am I not the greatest warrior this realm has ever known?!" Abaddon cried. "Have I not served the law faithfully, and—"

He was interrupted. "Enough!" A red-haired angel shook his head. "A creature of duty you are, and a creature of duty you shall remain. The law is clear, Abaddon, and the day we break it for you will be the day you return with a jewel from the crown of the Dark Prince in your hand."

Below them, Abaddon grinned.


	2. And grasped at moonbeams glistening

Before you ask, yes. Uriel is definitely going to kill him. And you know, it's a little tough to find precedent for lovestruck!Abaddon's behavior when he has exactly one line about it in the game... At least I have that comic panel of them holding hands. Sob.

 **Chapter 1: _And grasped at moonbeams glistening_**

"I don't suppose you consulted Uriel before making your case earlier."

Abaddon grunted in a manner that told Azrael he knew very well why he'd been asked. "I did not."

Azrael sighed. "Wouldn't it be embarrassing, Abaddon, to succeed in the fool's errand you have set yourself, only for Uriel to reject your suit out of sheer irritation?"

"Uriel is now under as much scrutiny as I am. If she is questioned and reveals she knew nothing of it, the others will find it much easier to believe she never had any intention of breaking the law. My crime will be my own."

Azrael shook his head, keeping pace with his friend as they strode down the corridor. Abaddon was quite pointedly not meeting Azrael's gaze. He must know what a fool he was being, but his cursed pride...

"That, I believe she will understand. But leaving before telling her is doing her a grave disservice, Abaddon."

"She must remain ignorant until she is summoned, and by then I will have left."

"You mean you know she will try to talk you out of it, and you don't want her to." But Azrael sighed, and dropped it; Abaddon was unfortunately right about Uriel's legal standing, and his logic held. "Are you bringing the Hellguard with you?"

Abaddon turned to level a downright offended look at him. "On a personal errand? This is no business of theirs."

"I wouldn't call it an errand," Azrael mumbled. "And it is very much their business, when you intend to abandon them for your own personal gain."

"I abandon no one!" Abaddon said fiercely, turning away again. I leave them in Uriel's capable hands, and I have no intention of dying."

"None do."

"You seem awfully determined to see the Hellguard follow me."

"You misunderstand. What I want is to dissuade you entirely. You are being unspeakably selfish, Abaddon. Do you believe the Prince of Lies will kill you if you fail? He will twist you to his vile cause, and in one fell swoop you would have both taken away our greatest hero and given him to Hell's legions."

Suddenly Abaddon stopped dead in his tracks, eyes glazed as though taken by some fell vision, mouth falling open in his distraction. Such was his expression that Azrael stepped closer in concern, but the moment passed, and he responded as though nothing had happened:

"The chance of success is worth the price of failure."

"Is it? You are the lord and leader of the Hellguard, and the entire White City has a stake in this quest. And who stands to gain from it but you? You would risk our leadership for a meaningless legal bond. Hear me," he said, seeing Abaddon's face twist in rage. "Uriel shares with you her fears and joys, and accepts yours in return. You help bear each other's burdens, and she trusts you both as a commander and as a dear friend, even if neither of you can say it in so many words. You spend most of your day in her company. Is this not enough? Why risk losing all that and more simply to make it public? You already have her love."

Abaddon scowled bitterly and looked away, clenching a fist at his side.

"You told me you were satisfied," Azrael reminded him.

"I was! Truly. But I… grow tired of stolen moments. Held gazes. Fleeting touches. Each one reminds me of what I cannot have." Abaddon shook his head violently. "It's infuriating! I want to tell her in words, can't bear the thought of leaving her with a single doubt."

"You will fail," Azrael said, "and leave her here alone. Leave me alone. And what will doubts or lack thereof matter then? Even the most foolhardy of the nephilim would never dare stand against the Dark Lord himself. You cannot honestly believe you have a chance, especially on your own."

Abaddon set his mouth in a line. "Actually, old friend, I was going to ask for your company. I had no intention of going alone."

Azrael blanched, though he recovered quickly for his friend's sake. "Even we two would never be able to steal anything from the Dark Prince, much less something he wears at all times."

Abaddon reached out and grasped Azrael's hand in both of his own, expression softening. "This is important to me, Azrael. Yesterday my secret wish was impossible. Now I have a chance! I couldn't possibly rest knowing there exists a way to grant it, but I am only one person and the obstacles on the road are great. Would you help me, old friend?"

Let it not be said that Abaddon knew nothing of diplomacy, Azrael thought. "What if I say no?"

"Then I will go alone," the other said resolutely, "and you will never see me again."

Azrael sighed. Abaddon was near and dear to his heart, and he'd known from the beginning what his own answer would be, must be. But he'd hoped… "If you will not be dissuaded, I will come with you. I shudder to think of you alone in Hell."

Abaddon beamed and clapped him on the shoulder, taking him by the arm and pulling him down the corridor. "I knew I could count on you, Azrael! Now come, this is a sojourn for which we must prepare carefully. I highly doubt we will have the luxury of a second chance, so we need a plan..."

* * *

Uriel was called before the lawgivers of Heaven much earlier than her day usually began, but such was her routine that she was already armed and armored and ready to answer their summons. She entered the open dome with her head held high and looked up at her superiors with no apprehension: she had done nothing to earn a reprimand, and had nothing to hide from them.

"Uriel," one said without preamble. "Abaddon has asked permission to take your hand in marriage."

Uriel started, her mouth falling open in shock. Abaddon had...? She had… hoped, had even reached out to him quietly and never been disappointed, but to hear it confirmed in plain words…

She tried to recover and close her expression off, hide the effect their words wrought on her, but they had been looking for a reaction and found one. "He didn't ask you first," they deduced.

"No," Uriel said simply. He had felt strongly enough to openly defy their laws. So unlike him…

"We believe you," they said. "We wondered if perhaps you encouraged him, but it is clear now that you know nothing of it."

"I would know more," Uriel said at once, regaining her confidence. Abaddon was frequently a man of passions, but ever had they been turned to the defense of the White City, and not toward his own desires. "I assume you denied him, or else you would not have called me here. What will happen to him now?"

Another angel, even shorter than Uriel, answered her. "His punishment would have been some form of probation awaiting a court martial, as he is unfortunately too useful to remove from his post." The angel shook her head. "But he has chosen a different penance, one which we fear may earn him Raciel's infamous doom."

Uriel's blood ran cold, but this time she'd been prepared, and no sign of it crossed her face. "Banishment to Hell? I find it unlikely he would agree to that."

"You're right. Someone..." The angel cast a dirty glare across the chamber, although at whom Uriel could not tell. "Someone spoke poorly, and accidentally set for him your brideprice, and the price of our honor. A shining gem from the Dark Lord's crown."

This was entirely too much to deal with this early in the morning. Uriel nearly swooned with her horror: the Dark Prince jealously guarded his legendary jewels, and had not removed his black crown since the day he donned it. There would be no breaking into secret vaults for this prize: Abaddon's only choice would be to face the demon himself.

"And he agreed?" Uriel asked, allowing incredulity to seep into her voice.

The angel snorted. "You see the problem."

"He is possessed by the sudden arrival of hope where once he had none," Uriel said, shaking her head in disbelief. He knew better! "You cannot persuade him?"

"Azrael tried, and failed. He is utterly determined."

Even Azrael couldn't talk sense into him. "Then I will speak to him. If he is truly as… taken… as his choice would imply, then he could not possibly dismiss my advice."

"You may find that difficult now," the red-haired angel said balefully. "Abaddon and Azrael left yesterday evening."


	3. Her hair like shadow following

My life is frequently commas. You get a comma! You get a comma! Things should pick up after this chapter, but until then thanks so much for your reviews! They're very encouraging, make writing this story a lot of fun and keep me going!

 **Chapter 2: _Her hair like shadow following_**

"What?!" Uriel cried. "And only now do you choose to summon me here!"

"It was all rather short notice," the angel said, and he sounded sorry.

"I can't believe this. Assign my duties to another; I will go and fetch them back. How did he talk Azrael into going with him?"

"They have ever been close friends. We can only assume Azrael wanted to ensure Abaddon's survival, if not his success, and chose to accompany him."

"You have our leave," another said. "We need them both returned alive, and would much rather see to Abaddon's discipline ourselves than leave it to Hell. Go quickly! May you fly swiftly, and bring our wayward leaders to see sense."

Uriel turned on her heel and marched out of the chamber with as much dignity as her haste would allow. How would she ever locate them before she—or they—were discovered? She knew only their destination, and surely they wouldn't be so foolish as to warp directly there…

* * *

As it happened, that was exactly what they'd decided to do.

"The jewels," Azrael had said before they left; "were not created by the demons, but stolen; from whom is knowledge lost to time, but it is known that they burn with the Creator's fire, the spark of life, and reject all evil that approaches."

"Then why are they sitting on the brow of the Dark Lord?"

"He is proud, and insists on wearing his ill-gotten prizes though they do him but little good. They burn his hands, and render many of the demons who approach him to ash." Azrael adopted a grim expression. "It has cost him much to keep them, and will cost him even more to lose one. He will never give them up for any price."

"Challenging him outright is also out of the question." Abaddon's mouth thinned into a displeased line: knowing the reality of the situation didn't make him any happier about it. "I therefore fail to see why we are openly announcing ourselves at his door."

"He does not answer housecalls personally and we are under no obligation to disclose our full purpose to his doormen. We will claim urgent business, use my reputation to assuage his suspicions, and by his curiosity gain entry, which should bypass many of the issues we would have faced attempting to enter uninvited."

"He will never believe you come in peace with the leader of the Hellguard at your side."

Azrael smiled. "And he knows I would never go before him without a guard. As I said, he is proud, so I don't believe your presence will be a problem."

It was true, but Abaddon still chafed at the thought. "That still leaves the problem of how to get the jewel once we're inside."

"Patience, friend. We must wait until we stand in the heart of the Dark Prince's palace, before the demon himself. Very few of his minions can bear the light of his crown well enough to enter, and those who do should be severely weakened. I will cast a spell of sleep upon the entire fortress once we arrive, and while I very much doubt it will work as quickly on him as it generally does on his slaves, he should be drowsy enough for you to pry a gemstone out of his crown."

"And then we simply teleport out." Abaddon scowled. "I don't like this plan. I believe in your power, Azrael, but the thought of putting him to sleep and simply taking a jewel is too vague for me." So many ways it may go wrong, and so few they could predict… Even assuming they were not simply attacked upon arrival, there was no way to know how well Azrael's magic would work on the greatest demon who had ever lived.

"We are not looking for a fight," Azrael reminded him, "and he knows not our true purpose. He will not think to protect his crown. We need only break his focus, take a jewel, and leave before we are killed. You will have to protect me while I cast."

"By my honor, no harm shall befall you, my friend."

"I don't believe your honor will help in this case, but I thank you. Choose your moment carefully: if you try for a jewel and fail, you will alert him to our errand and make completing it that much more difficult. And further, take only one: those jewels have a wild and ancient power to them, and tales abound of the strange effects they have upon their bearers."

Abaddon nodded. "Understood. Perhaps we will return before Uriel is even made aware of our task." Who knew how long it would take to gain entry to the fortress itself, but it was difficult to imagine their battle lasting much longer than several minutes.

Azrael, wise and foresighted, made no reply.

* * *

Traveling undetected in Hell was nearly impossible, especially for an angel: Uriel's light blazed out through the blistering atmosphere, giving her away to any demon with eyes to see. Her only advantage was that she traveled alone, and with the ability to flee the realm if accosted. Demons of all peoples truly ought to know better than to ignore the skies, but Uriel decided to use it as her sanctuary anyway. Earthbound races, she'd discovered, only rarely thought to look up while searching for intruders, and if she kept high enough she would be long gone by the time they noticed and made any danger for her.

The air, as always, burned her throat and left a vile taste in her mouth as she soared over the blasted plains and cliffs. She would seek out Vulgrim, the merchant, and ask for… news. Rumors. She could not risk revealing the presence of her General and her friend in Hell. Vulgrim was crafty, and would no doubt find some way to pry it out of her, but by Heaven's name she would try. And as for what to do if he knew nothing…

Impulsively Uriel cast a quick glance down at the ground, as though she might find them there below her. Well, she knew their destination. She would simply head straight there as quickly as possible, and hope that one angel could travel faster than two…

Suddenly Uriel's wings froze of their own accord, going numb and limp in mid-flight. Her eyes widened in surprise, but nothing she could do would make them move again, and she cried out as she plummeted.

Too high up—something, anything—

She drew her sword and lashed out, catching tainted stone with the blade, again and again and each time losing some momentum until finally she hit the ground—painfully, skidding and rolling across the ground, losing feathers as they caught on the rocks—and came to a stop mostly uninjured.

She jumped to her feet the moment she knew up from down again. Someone had spotted her.

Someone laughing from atop an outcropping of rock behind her…

Uriel spun to look, and scowled at what she saw. "Lilith."

"I'm actually quite impressed," the demon admitted in her low, sultry voice. "Most angels simply fall to their deaths when I do that, although I suppose the location worked to your advantage."

"I have no business with you, demon," Uriel spat. "And so if you're done, I will be on my way."

"Oh, but Uriel! Why not stay and chat a while? You are always so busy."

Lilith leaned forward, and Uriel could not suppress a shudder at the view. But she forced herself to feel the oppressive heat of Hell, and the weight of her own armor, and steeled herself.

"I have no business with you," she repeated for her own sake, "and I would rather keep it that way."

"My dear, you crush me!" Lilith straightened with the same coy smile, black hair swinging behind her. "I must say, I am curious as to what business a lone angel might have in the Black Depths. Where is your handsome commander, my little bird? Your Hellguard?"

Uriel started at the first question with a stab of fear. Did she know—? But no. Lilith was merely… teasing her. That was… preferable, under the circumstances, but she thought she'd been good about hiding it.

Lilith laughed again, misinterpreting her struggle to regain her composure. "How unprofessional of you, little bird. Tell me, does he have eyes for you too? Or do you dream of him, and a reality where your feelings are not only legal, but requited—"

"Enough!" Uriel barked. She had no need of Lilith's mockery—she knew better. That was why she'd come, after all.

"Well, I suppose we will find out shortly." Lilith leaped off the rock and landed before Uriel with a wicked smile. "You must have known this would happen when you set out, little bird. I haven't had such a prominent toy in a long, long time."

"And you won't, for a long time further."

* * *

Abaddon and Azrael had left Heaven with little fanfare, for they wished to keep their quest known to as few as possible and trusted their equals to find their replacements, and excuses. It would make explaining the situation to the realm at large rather difficult afterward, Abaddon thought, but for now their survival depended on their enemy's ignorance.

They hadn't even left through the gate, liking little the possibility of being seen. But for all their preparation and all their caution, they would never know whether or not Azrael's plan would have worked: for when finally they left the White City and crossed over the void into their destination in Hell, it was not the dark gates of the Prince of Lie's stronghold that greeted their arrival. They found themselves instead on an open platform ringed by lava, and standing before a throne in which sat…

Abaddon snarled. " _Samael_."


	4. Long was the road that fate them bore

Man, screw demons. I do have trouble writing them... Thanks to everyone who's given feedback, even if it's just yelling about everyone's terrible decisions! I do enjoy yelling, yes I do. Hope you haven't played Symphonia.

 **Chapter 3: _Long was the road that fate them bore_**

Lilith, Uriel soon found, was more than a match for the angel's skill; every time Uriel struck Lilith simply wasn't there anymore, vanishing into thin air and reappearing elsewhere to prepare her next move. Uriel was an agile flier and had no difficulty avoiding injury, but she knew something had to give eventually.

"If you have no intention of fighting me properly, then let me be on my way!"

"An angel who doesn't want a fight? Intriguing!" Something that looked suspiciously like acid welled up beneath Uriel, and she dived out of the way as it gushed up past her. "My dear, you must be the shame of the White City."

"Heaven's wings—" Uriel started.

Lilith thrust out her arm and the earth lashed out at her command, a spire of rock thrusting up out of the ground with her. Uriel dropping beneath the oncoming blow and finished:

"—I beg of thee to reveal thy glory!"

A flash of light produced three glowing disks, sent hurtling at the demon with impressive speed. Uriel did not stop to watch their flight, instead coming to land on her feet and digging the point of her blade into the ground.

Abaddon had spoken once of an ancient magic, older than angels and demons and used to lend strength to one's blow. It wouldn't win her the fight, Uriel thought, but she knew she was outmatched and would need any advantage she could think of.

Lilith deflected Uriel's magic easily, and her counterattack was not long in coming: a ring of wicked barbs danced and shot out, homing in on the momentarily unarmed angel.

At the final moment, Uriel reached for her sword.

Uriel felt the ancient power as it burst forth, from her own spirit as much as from the air around her: the power of courage, and of waiting until the moment of one's defeat to draw a weapon. The energy crackled about the blade and lent a supernatural strength to her swing.

But even that could not overpower Lilith Hell's Queen, and Uriel's blow flew harmlessly past the demon's spell, weakened by her enemy's terrible strength. Uriel felt the stinging pain of barbs and poison digging into her flesh, and knew no more.

* * *

For a moment Samael looked exactly as shocked as they did, staring in open-mouthed astonishment at the pair of angels standing in the middle of his home. Then suddenly he roared with laughter, pounding a fist against the armrest.

"Look what we have here! A little lost aren't we, my lords?"

Abaddon scowled, but Azrael spoke first, determined to salvage the situation before it went from troubling to dangerous. "We meant no harm, or intrusion."

"Oh, I'm sure! With General Abaddon at your side?"

"I would never allow Azrael to enter this putrid realm alone!"

"Don't you have more important duties?" Samael leaned forward, grinning. "You've chosen an interesting vacation spot, my lords."

Azrael shook his head. "Our business is not with you, Samael."

"Ah, so this is a business trip! Tell me, what business do the lords of Heaven have with the Prince of Lies?"

At his guests' sudden silence Samael laughed again. "Oh, I know where you intended to go. And because I am a generous host, I'll even tell you what happened: there is an enchantment about the Dark Lord's palace, which intercepts incoming visitors who aim beyond a certain landmark on the grounds, and redirects them here. A simple little way of keeping out unwanted intruders, while expediting travel for guests."

Azrael frowned. "Impossible. Only the Charred Council—"

"Impossible nothing! You're here, aren't you? Or do you believe that I am an illusion, and that you've truly arrived at your intended destination?"

Abaddon sneered. "So you receive the Dark Prince's unwanted visitors? Playing gatekeeper now, Samael?"

"You say that as though it isn't great fun playing the Dark Prince's gatekeeper."

"That's quite enough," Azrael said quickly, cutting off Abaddon's response. Fighting Samael would significantly decrease their chances of breaching their destination peacefully, and he was determined to save their strength for the Dark Lord himself. "You are correct, Samael. We did indeed attempt to cross over at your lord's stronghold, and found ourselves here instead. We'd intended to announce ourselves openly and enter without violence, but I suppose he has reason to be wary."

"It does frequently make travel irritating," Samael agreed. Abaddon scoffed, and Azrael knew without asking that he was pushing away the mental image of Samael trying to enter, only to find himself back in his own home.

"I don't expect you to tell us the ward's cutoff position, but we will be on our way now."

"Not so fast, Azrael." Samael leaned back lazily in his throne. "You never answered my question. What exactly is your business in Hell? It's a poor gatekeeper who lets just anyone through."

Azrael highly doubted the merit of sincerity at the moment. "We are not 'just anyone,' Samael. Never before have Abaddon and I risked a journey alone to speak with your master. Knowing that, you would still accuse us of wasting his time?"

"It's not his time I'm worried about."

"We've already said we mean no harm," Abaddon said. "You have no grounds on which to detain us."

"It's funny how you seem to believe that I need grounds on which to detain you, Abaddon." Samael rose from his throne, and with a growl Abaddon reached for his sword. "You know, it's been some time since I played doorkeeper last. You want to speak to Hell's Lord so badly? You may do it from within my dungeons. See how well your power serves you alone in Hell!"

"Hmph!" Azrael lifted his chin in defiance, gathering his strength. "So be it."

* * *

Something soft, fleshy and—most troublingly—wet was pressed up against Uriel's cheek.

Upon awakening well enough to form this first coherent thought Uriel bolted upright, sitting up and away from the disgusting surface. The… floor…?

A feral snarl startled her out of her daze and bemusement, and she looked up just in time to shoot into the air, narrowly avoiding the snapping jaws of her jailor.

It was a truly massive hellhound, big enough to ride and fearsome enough to rival even the steeds of the Four Horsemen. Its black fur was matted and missing altogether in places, revealing ruined and scarred skin underneath. From between its yellowed teeth dripped globs of some sickly pus-like substance, and it glared up at Uriel with narrowed green eyes.

"You might have tried eating me while I was asleep, beast."

The demonic hound barked at her once, then returned to what Uriel could only assume was its post at the entrance of the room.

A room of living flesh, and a ward of imprisonment fashioned from skin upon the floor. There was no doubt whatsoever as to where Uriel had found herself.

"I see you've met Kelev, little bird."

Uriel scowled at the figure entering the room. "Lilith."

The demon laughed, striding forward to scratch her demonic hound on the head; Kelev whined and pushed up against her in response.

"Welcome to my humble abode! I don't suppose I can get you any… refreshment?"

"Spare me your mockery, demon."

"Oh, merely being a hospitable host, you see." Lilith hoisted herself up on Kelev's back and crossed her legs, smiling. "I know what you tried to do back there. The ancient magic! Did Abaddon tell you of it?"

At Uriel's deepening scowl she laughed. "I've heard of it too. I suppose Abaddon either didn't know or didn't tell you everything. Poor, fearless angel! It only works if you are truly afraid. And you are remarkably confident in your ability, little bird."

"I am not Abaddon's lieutenant for no reason."

"And yet, you are not his equal either." Lilith uncrossed her legs and leaned forward; Uriel actually flew backwards away from her, as far as she could. "You know, you never did tell me what you were doing here, my lovely lieutenant."

Uriel set her jaw and said nothing. If she told Lilith that Abaddon and Azrael were in Hell, the Dark Lord would surely hear of it. And that would make finding them alive much, much harder…

"Suit yourself. I suppose we'll investigate together whether your feelings are returned or not, shall we? Oh yes," Lilith said, when Uriel could not hide her reaction. "I won't ruin you yet. I'm curious as to what Abaddon will think of your… situation. Rather unworthy of his second-in-command, don't you think? We'll see his reaction together, and then we can think about… having fun."

She gave a sinister smile which did more to put unease into Uriel's heart than all the demons she'd faced thus far combined.

"Don't bother fighting the dog," Lilith went on in a suddenly businesslike tone. "He is a creature of prophecy, and cannot be defeated by angel or demon. You possess literally no chance of victory against him. Guard our prisoner well, Kelev!" she finished in a singsong voice, reaching over to scratch her hound behind the ears.

Kelev pushed against her hand and whined again, and inexplicably Uriel felt a stab of pity for the beast.

"I'll be back, little bird. And then..."

She let the warning hang in the air, eyes glinting maliciously, and turned to leave.


	5. Now withered lay the hemlock-sheaves

Thanks so much for all the kind words! Feedback of any kind is totally appreciated, even if it's just screaming.

 **Chapter 4: _Now withered lay the hemlock-sheaves_**

Lilith had ordered her hound not to harm Uriel, but still the angel was not keen on getting anywhere near it; it prowled restlessly below her for some time before going to lay down by the entrance, and only rarely took its gaze off her. Only when Uriel's wings began to tire did she consider the merits of landing, and even then she did so in the furthest corner from the dog.

But not against the corner, for neither had she any desire to actually touch the wall. Lilith's stronghold was vile and disgusting, and if the air clung to Uriel's skin so then she couldn't imagine what the rest of it might feel like. As it was, her boots sank some inches into the floor before it resisted.

"You are ridiculous if you can bear living here for her sake."

Kelev only snorted at her without interrupting his vigil.

Of all the demons to have noticed her, it had to be Lilith. Anyone else Uriel could have easily overpowered, but now instead of searching for her liege she was stuck here awaiting word from Heaven—or, more likely, waiting for Lilith's patience to run out.

The reality of her uncertain fate would have to sink in later, however. Worse was the sheer indignity of the situation: how embarrassing would it be, to follow Abaddon into Hell in an attempt to sway him from his course, only to succeed by needing to be rescued? No one who knew Lilith would blame her, but her pride couldn't bear it.

Deprived of flight while her wings rested Uriel took instead to pacing; only when injured had she ever found herself with a shortage of things to do, and even then she could always find some manner of administrative busywork to occupy herself with. Kelev barked suddenly and Uriel froze, eying him warily, but went on as before when he did nothing more.

And promptly sank knee-deep into the fleshy floor.

The walls around her quivered excitedly and Uriel was so revolted she actually took to the air, shooting up and away from the spot. Tired wings be damned.

She hated this place.

"Were you trying to warn me?" she asked her jailor, touching down on relatively solid ground again.

The dog didn't dignify her with an answer, laying its head upon its paws instead.

"I suppose that means you like this place as much as I do." Uriel frowned. "I wonder where Lilith found a near-invincible hound, if she didn't create you with her skills of old."

Kelev, it seemed, wasn't one for conversation. He stared at her with glowing green eyes, and did not seem inclined to give an answer to her inquiry.

...Not that he was capable of an answer she could understand. But the effort would have been appreciated.

* * *

Fighting Samael was turning out to be a war of attrition; Abaddon received as many wounds as he dealt, and between the demon's regenerative ability and Azrael's magic neither of them had any intention of slowing down.

Azrael would happily have assisted with the offensive, if only he had the opportunity, but the waves of demons pouring in kept him too occupied to do more than heal Abaddon's injuries. True to his word, however, Abaddon allowed no blow to fall upon him, heading Samael off at every attempt.

So they went on, Abaddon's sword biting near-uselessly into Samael's hide and Samael's magic breaking like water against Azrael's strength, neither side coming any closer to victory or defeat.

They were wasting energy, Abaddon thought, and time; how long they had been at this he could not say, but though their power was legendary they could not afford to face their ultimate enemy at anything other than their full strength. And the longer they took, the more likely something would happen to Heaven in their absence…

Abaddon moved to deflect another shot at Azrael, putting him against his friend's back.

"We need to leave," he growled.

"I'm working on it. Give me a moment—"

Abaddon didn't linger to hear the rest: Samael charged again, and the warrior rushed forth to meet him, steel ringing against demonic claws.

"You could end this right now by divulging your mission here," Samael reminded him.

The angel thrust his blade forward in spite, catching the demon on the wing.

"Have it your way, then!"

Samael pushed against him, and Abaddon dislodged his sword for another strike when—

"Well now, isn't this a coincidence?"

The lesser demons froze at the sound of that low, feminine voice, and Azrael took the opportunity to wipe them out with a roar of white fire.

Samael was not amused. "You are interrupting, Lilith."

The demoness laughed, crossing her legs on her perch above them. "Do forgive me, Samael. I was merely fishing for suggestions on what to do with my latest prisoner! I had no idea you were entertaining guests."

Abaddon moved to keep them both within sight. "We were just leaving."

"What a shame!" Lilith's smile took on a vicious quality Abaddon did not trust, and through his muttered incantation Azrael hissed in warning. "As it happens I've been looking for you too. No wonder the White City has been so quiet..."

Well, Lilith knew they were here now, too. Abaddon mentally wrote off the stealth portion of their mission as a loss. And it had barely been a day since they left—

"Your lovely lieutenant has not been enjoying my hospitality very much, I'm afraid."

Abaddon felt the blood drain from his face even as his rage was reignited. Uriel, in the hands of Lilith? How had she—?!

"Abaddon!" Azrael called out in warning, but both he and his friend were too slow.

His reaction had been too obvious: Samael dove in for the kill, and Abaddon recovered just fast enough to curse his own weakness before everything went black.

* * *

Some time into her imprisonment the folds of skin which made up the entrance opened, sending both her and her jailor into high alert. It was not Kelev's mistress who passed through, however, but one of her… pets. One of the weaker ones, with oversized muscles and a blade and little else, but without a weapon Uriel wasn't sure she wanted to risk a fight.

"Enjoying your stay?" it asked in a rasping voice, somehow giving the impression of a smile.

"Are you sure you're allowed to be here?" Uriel asked. "I distinctly remember your mistress saying—"

"Shut up! I'm not here for you, wench." The demon produced a foul-smelling sack which dripped with something the same color as Kelev's slobber, and Uriel could not stop from wrinkling her nose. "It's dinner time for the dog here, unless you'd like to feed him yourself."

Uriel smirked. "Lilith must not think very highly of you, if she has you feeding her hound."

"Do not soil the mistress's name with your pathetic breath! You know..." The demon's eyes flashed dangerously. "Perhaps you're right. Maybe I won't feed the damn thing—see how well you like him when he gets hungry."

Kelev, it seemed, did not like that idea much more than Uriel did: he growled and nipped at the demon's foot, and received a rough kick to the face for his troubles.

"Quiet down you, or the mistress'll be at your throat again when she returns. Yes, I think I'll do that," he went on, addressing Uriel again. "Teach you to run your mouth! This mutt looks like he hasn't been doing much anyway, so maybe we'll make him earn his meals from now on. Enjoy your stay, angel!"

Kelev bit at its heels again, and with a whimper fell back as he received the same violent response. The demon sneered at Uriel and left again, pushing through the folds of skin.

...Well, Kelev was giving her a dirty look, but at least she hadn't been injured somehow.

Now unwilling to take her eyes off the disgruntled hound Uriel resigned herself to a long and sleepless vigil, sitting upon the fleshy floor (she scowled, but her legs were about as tired as her wings by now) and mirroring the hound's glare as best she could.

But time ticked by without any further interaction between the two, and when Uriel shook herself back to awareness and cursed her own inattention his posture had changed: he was back to lying sullenly on his stomach, head on his paws, eyes lidded just as hers had probably been up until a moment ago.

He looked… pitiful.

And Uriel felt sorry for him.

Mercy was not a virtue in the White City, or indeed anywhere in Creation, but Uriel reached into a concealed pocket—Lilith had taken most of her supplies, unfortunately—and extracted from it a few strips of smoked and dried meat, emergency rations for just this sort of situation.

Kelev sniffed and perked up immediately.

Uriel hesitated, suddenly having second thoughts, but now that he knew she had food he probably would tear her apart for it. "Here," she said, tossing it at him and watching as he snatched it out of the air. "For depriving you of your dinner."

Kelev bit down a couple times and swallowed, actually choking a little before forcing it down properly. Uriel frowned: he did seem a little thin…

"That demon said Lilith would have your hide… again. She has done it before."

The hound returned to his seat by the door, pointedly looking away from his charge. He had been disobedient in the past, then… Lilith had beaten him and withheld meals. She must have dearly wanted him under her control if she hadn't killed him yet…

"You are as much a prisoner here as I am," Uriel realized.

Kelev whined, and buried his face under his paws.


	6. Through halls of iron and darkling door

Thanks again to everyone who's reviewed! Love you guys, you keep me going!

 **Chapter 5: _Through halls of iron and darkling door_**

Abaddon snapped back to awareness as quickly as he'd left it, something in his body sensing danger and rousing his mind in defense. The smell of brimstone alone would have provided an explanation for his unfamiliar surroundings and the hard ground he laid upon, but with instincts honed by eons of experience his memory was not long in coming.

The jewels. Samael. Lilith. Uriel…

Azrael!

Abaddon bolted upright, but a cursory glance about his surroundings revealed no trace of his dearest friend. He was alone.

The corner in which he'd awoken stretched into two long, narrow corridors, well-lit despite the lack of any visible light source, and hemmed in from the top by a sickly black fog.

Abaddon grimaced. He was unlikely to either succeed or enjoy the results of his failure, but the thought of simply flying away would eat at him until he tried it. Taking a breath to brace himself, Abaddon spread his wings and launched himself into the air, and the midst of the black fog.

And promptly started awake on the ground again, insides crawling.

Well. No flying, then.

At the very least, his situation was now clear. He was a prisoner. Azrael would never have given him up if he could have avoided it…

"Azrael!"

His voice did not seem to echo, or indeed carry at all, and there was no answer—none but the baying of hounds, which certainly did seem to carry and rang in his ears from all directions.

So this was Samael's game. Abaddon playing against a labyrinth and its inhabitants, with no weapon—or armor, he noted sourly—to protect him.

Abaddon rose to his feet again, swaying a little with the effects of his ill-advised flight. Samael would have been a fool not to silence the most powerful sorcerer among the ranks of Heaven. Azrael could be enduring anything and Abaddon would never hear him. To suffer so when he had advised against this journey in the first place…

And Uriel.

Uriel's situation was no worse than their own, but the thought of what Lilith might do to her… The thought was like acid in his stomach. He wouldn't allow it. Not if he could help it.

No jewel in all of Creation was worth either of their lives, and Abaddon now stood to lose both.

Samael and Lilith would pay, he decided. Getting them back safely would not satisfy him. He would make absolutely sure no one ever dared to touch them again.

Burning with righteous anger, Abaddon stepped forth into the maze.

* * *

Kelev seemed to know better than to expect more food, but behaved more like a chaperone than a jailor after being fed. If he watched Uriel more intently than before it seemed to be out of interest rather than caution, and with some amusement Uriel realized he'd successfully trained her to avoid certain areas of the floor by barking at her before she set her foot down.

When he tried to warn her of a spot she knew to be safe Uriel laughed at him. "Now I know you are merely making fun of me, Kelev."

The dog grinned, baring his yellowed teeth, and barked again before settling back down.

But not for long.

The 'doors' opened to admit another visitor, and this time the room itself quivered in anticipation at receiving its master. Kelev shrank into himself, appearing much smaller than he was.

"Did you miss me, little bird?" Lilith asked.

She hadn't, but at the sight of her Uriel was again reminded of why so many had fallen under her spell. She glared silently instead of answering, not trusting her voice.

Lilith was not fooled. "You know, people like you and me have to help each other, don't we? There's still time for an… alliance, you know..."

Her voice by nature crushed any chance of Uriel interrupting her, but she remembered enough of herself to answer. "Never!"

"We'll see."

Lilith beckoned at her hound, and after a moment's hesitation he obeyed with a strange look at Uriel. Once again the demon hoisted herself up on his high back, and this time Uriel scowled to see him used as a throne.

"I've just made a few house calls, lieutenant. Your White City, as expected, does not seem terribly eager to have you back."

Uriel had made her peace with that, and would not dignify her captor with a reaction.

"So I went to Samael to see if he knew anything of your purpose here. And—" Her eyes sparkled dangerously. "I do believe we found it on his doorstep."

Uriel held her breath and kept her expression carefully neutral. It could be a bluff. There was no reason for them to go to Samael…

"Did you know your precious general and his dear mystic are also in Hell?"

Blast.

Lilith laughed. "Woe on you, little bird! No one is thinking about you while Abaddon and Azrael are captives of their hated enemies."

Uriel snarled. "They would never be defeated by the likes of your kind."

The demon was entirely prepared for this argument, apparently: with a malicious grin Lilith held our her hand, and in her outstretched palm appeared a mass of white feathers—and worse, portions of white feathers, runes glowing upon the ends.

Uriel's heart sank like a stone. So it was true.

Lilith allowed her trophies to drift to the floor, which shuddered as though tickled.

"Well, lieutenant, their fate is no longer any of your concern," she said. "Unless, of course, you know why they seek an audience with my dear husband, as Azrael has been rather mum on the subject."

Uriel's heart sank even lower. If Lilith knew, then even if they escaped they could never…

"I'll get it out of you somehow," Lilith drawled. "I have an eternity, after all..."

"You won't hold me forever," Uriel vowed.

"You don't get a say. Who knows? Maybe you'll even… enjoy it."

Lilith laughed again at her prisoner's obvious discomfort. "Enjoy your stay, little bird," she said, sliding off Kelev's back again. "This development opens up a whole new realm of options for us, after all."

She paused to scratch Kelev behind the ears again, and Uriel bit her lip as he gave his customary response of a greedy whine. Unable to make any threat she could carry through on the angel was forced to watch spitefully as the demon made her exit.

Without any unfriendly eyes to see her, Uriel felt her strength give a little; suddenly the air seemed much more oppressive, much more encroaching and choking than it had been mere minutes ago. She rubbed at her eyes restlessly.

Before she had been concerned with her pride should Abaddon divert his attention to rescuing her. Now she bore the responsibility for all three of their lives, and faced not only the possibility, but the likelihood of spending the rest of her life in Hell.

Here. In this room.

She had considered herself fearless, but in her gut lay an unwelcome weight she had known only once before, hearing the approach of the biggest and strongest of the Four Horseman as little more than a lone child.

Damn her, that demon, and damn Uriel's own incompetence.

A low whine brought her out of her thoughts, and Uriel peeked through her fingers at a pair of wide, green eyes.

"They'll find a way out," Uriel said quietly. "Either one of them could crush anyone under their heel, and together they are nearly unstoppable. They will find a way out."

Kelev looked uncertain, padding forward and curling up at her feet.

Uriel swallowed. Would they really? If they had been defeated once, surely they could be defeated again… and Samael would have taken measures to ensure the second battle was even less in their favor.

And Heaven, what about her?

"I have to help them," Uriel decided, reaching out to scratch Kelev behind the ears. Unlike with his mistress he calmed at once, closing his eyes and flattening his ears.

"I have to escape," she said, "but with the ward upon this room I cannot do it alone. Will you help me, my friend? Shall we escape your terrible mistress together?"

Kelev looked up at her and blinked—but his decision was the work of a moment's thought. He grinned, and licked her hand.

* * *

Azrael wasn't quite sure what Samael and Lilith had done to him, but he didn't quite feel as though he were waking up.

After Abaddon had gone down, Azrael could have easily called upon the flames of Heaven, could have burned the skin off his enemies and fled Hell largely unharmed. He could not, however, have done so before Samael slew the fallen Abaddon in retaliation. The possibility of escaping the situation could not compete with the desire to see Abaddon safe, or to prevent any reprisal against the captive Uriel, and so Azrael's only choice had been to surrender.

And there his memory ended.

When it began again he was already on his feet, swaying but quickly regaining his balance and taking stock of his new surroundings.

Narrow corridor. Mist on the ceiling. Ubiquitous light, despite the lack of torches. A maze, his mind told him, before he even remembered why he was here.

He had known this would happen when he surrendered, but he burned with indignation at the reality of it. Imprisoned, a piece in a pointless game for Samael's own amusement—and he highly doubted there was a way to win.

Azrael, Abaddon and Uriel. Azrael's heart clenched at the thought: Uriel had probably seen folly in their scheme and followed, only to be captured and used against them. Uriel, determined and radiant, and everything Heaven prized in an angel besides…

The sound of someone—a deep, familiar voice—calling his name just barely reached Azrael's ears, drifting in from all directions at once. Azrael froze: it could have been an illusion, but that voice struck something deep within him that felt too well-worn to be a fabrication.

He called out—or tried, only for his voice to catch painfully in his throat. Silenced. Of course…

He could not reply, but at least he soon learned they were not alone in the labyrinth. A chorus of howls greeted Abaddon's call, and Azrael could not help a sigh.

Not just a maze. A chase.

He was not nearly foolish enough to brave the mist at the top of his prison, and without a means of escape he faced the inevitability of combat. Without magic. A rather daunting prospect for a silenced and unarmored sorcerer…

But not, he now realized, unarmed. For at his feet lay an impossible blade, longer than he was tall, and horribly familiar.

Abaddon's sword.

Unable to produce a sound Azrael's mouth thinned in resolve. Samael's sense of humor would be his downfall, he vowed: not a single angel in the White City was untrained in the way of the sword, and if Samael believed that its unwieldy length or Azrael's more scholarly build would hinder him he was gravely mistaken.

Azrael stooped to take it, lifting it carefully by the handle, testing the weight and balance. Abaddon was unarmed, then. The burden of their fates lay upon Azrael alone.

Determined, he set forth into the labyrinth.


	7. Or music welling underground

I'm, er, really sorry if this chapter disappoints. Know that it took so long to write specifically because of that XD; I was hoping to get the next chapter out by this Saturday, so expect it soon, but don't hold your breath probably. Ahaha. SORRY.

 **Chapter 6: _Or music welling underground_**

Devising a plan when the most knowledgeable participant lacked a voice proved to be a frustrating experience. Uriel knew almost nothing of her prison—not the routines of its residents, nor the way out, and Kelev had no way of communicating them to her. Uriel was quite used to being shot down repeatedly, but not without adequate explanation afterward.

Eventually Kelev stopped her, leaning into her space and licking her cheek.

"I suppose I will simply have to follow your lead," Uriel said wearily. "You know better than I do, my friend."

Kelev nuzzled her affectionately; Uriel was beginning to suspect it had been something in his diet which had created the disgusting slobber, as she'd seen none of it since they'd neglected to feed him. He accepted her scratches in return for a few moments, and with a brush of patchy black fur turned and padded silently toward the door.

"Right now?" Uriel asked when he walked past his usual spot.

Kelev paused to give her a lazy grin, teeth shining, and continued out the door, vanishing through the folds without a sound.

Unable to follow for the ward upon the floor, Uriel rose to her feet restlessly. He was, she knew, taking an enormous risk for her, and she could not afford to be caught unaware if something happened. For now, it was all up to him…

* * *

Azrael tore through his opponents with such an ease that if he hadn't known better, he might have thought the rest were afraid of him.

His wings did not allow for much stealth, but neither could his enemies catch him off-guard: the first hound dashed out from behind a corner, and Azrael cut it in half with a single stroke. It fell dead at his feet, and he stepped over it without sparing it any further thought.

The second was bigger, though still unhampered by the lack of space; it challenged Azrael openly, snarling as it leaped. It fell with exactly as little fanfare as its comrade.

A more pressing concern in his mind was the sheer size of the labyrinth, and the simple matter of finding his way around. With magic it would have been tedious but possible; without magic he had no way of knowing whether the path he chose would bring him closer to his goal, and no way of retracing his steps other than by memory. Wandering aimlessly was his only way forward, and trying to remember from where he'd heard Abaddon's voice was extremely difficult.

Even if he slew every demon in the maze with the same ease as the first dozen or so who faced him, Azrael realized, there still remained the possibility of his being lost here forever. Abaddon was capable of unsilencing him—an emergency measure they'd agreed upon long ago—but as long as they remained separated they were both entirely at fortune's mercy.

Azrael turned a corner to find himself at a dead end; he was given only a moment with which to glare at the dark stone before the familiar sound of a hellhound's growl brought his attention behind him, and he turned just in time to respond to the attack.

This wolf was the biggest he'd yet seen, black and gray with flames leaping from its paws. Easily large enough to pin him down and savage him, it jumped with a ferocious snarl, claws outstretched.

There was too little space to swing properly. Azrael dived to meet it halfway, ducking under the wicked claws, and rammed his blade home in the hound's skull.

The beast perished instantly, without even a cry for its defeat, but the blow was not enough to stop its forward momentum. Down they went, angel and demon, flames licking at Azrael's robes until he was able to hastily scramble out from under the heavy corpse, and back to his feet.

He stamped the fire out of his robes. Well, that might have gone worse.

But it did serve to prove what he had already been thinking. It had only been one this time, but any more of that size and Azrael might not find much use in his blade after all.

He stooped to lift Abaddon's sword again, and stepped over the quickly cooling corpse. Nothing to do but continue onward.

* * *

Uriel's decision to stand and pace instead of sitting patiently was vindicated: the ground under her feet quivered, and she looked down just in time to watch the seal ignite and burn away.

He'd done it. Uriel could leave unhindered.

Reflex kicked in and she was through the door almost instantly, before the entire structure shuddered around her and the flaps pulled shut. What a relief! One door down. But that still left the exit, if she could even locate it alone. Should she wait for Kelev? It had been some time, and if it took too long for him to return it may be more productive to start without him…

Uriel had her choice of two directions, neither more or less inviting than the other, and so she picked one at random and set off. Flying would be possible, but uncomfortable, and she did not want to risk even the possibility of her wings brushing against the glistening walls.

Whatever Kelev had done did not seem to have been very subtle. A pair of demons rounded the bend and appeared before her, black blades held in hands of exaggerated strength.

"She's loose!" one cried, and his moment's distraction was all Uriel needed.

Uriel dived forward and buried her fingers in his eyes; she felt her nails snap and break under her armor, but unlike what she had just taken from the demon they would eventually grow back. He howled and dropped his sword, allowing Uriel to snatch it up and make short work of them both.

Loose and armed! She was definitely feeling better now than she had been several minutes ago.

She continued down the corridor, winding this way and that, flesh squelching obscenely under her boots. How strange, she thought, that she had not yet come across any other rooms or passageways. Not even a fork in the hall…

The truth hit her. Lilith's home was as alive as its master. It had been hiding them from her, preventing her from escaping, possibly even leading her…

"You are trying my patience, little bird."

* * *

Abaddon, meanwhile, found himself facing the same problem as Azrael.

Samael, or whoever directed the inhabitants of the labyrinth, seemed to believe him to be the bigger threat. That was not an unwelcome development, he thought, as it likely kept their attention away from the silenced Azrael, but it did mean he saw rather more combat than he felt comfortable with while unarmed.

They came in packs of three, at first small enough to get by in the small space and surround him. Abaddon was more than strong enough to beat them to death with his bare hands, and did so without hesitation, but he could not have possibly avoided injury in the process.

One bit deep into his arm, and with a snarl he swung and slammed it into the wall, with such a force that it fell dead at once. But his energy would not last forever, and his enemies were legion.

Find Azrael, he thought. If he could only find and unsilence Azrael, then together they could easily escape this blasted maze and get back to their errand. But was Azrael even in the labyrinth with him? Even if he was he could not answer any call Abaddon made, so the general had no way of knowing one way or another. Perhaps Samael had not left him a way out after all…

Eventually his assailants became bigger, mostly unable to use their previous tactics but much more dangerous even so. The only good thing was that they were unable to coordinate themselves this close; they bit and clawed and drew as much blood from each other as from him.

Abaddon took one by the head with both hands and smashed it into the wall with all the strength he could muster, and was relieved when it gave no reaction. The others, however, still posed the danger of bowling him over. One snapped at his arm, and jaws sank into his flesh for the second time that day; Abaddon yanked it sideways, tearing the wound open further but achieving his purpose. The last of the wolves ripped into its comrade's neck, leaving Abaddon with only one enemy to fight.

He dislodged and threw off the corpse of the second fiend and dived for the third, wrenching it down to the ground. It howled and kicked, catching him on the chest with its sharp claws, but Abaddon ignored it and slammed a fist into its skull—again, and again.

Soon it lay dead, and Abaddon stumbled off, coated in more than hellhound's blood.

Damn it.

He scowled down at them and leaned against the nearby wall to examine his injuries. Nothing immediately life-threatening, unless allowed to bleed unhindered, but another fight like that and he would be in trouble.

He set to work, tearing off strips of his robe. Uriel… Would Uriel have survived here, had their positions been reversed? Lilith's power was legendary, but there she fought a battle of wills and minds, where she naturally excelled. Abaddon was able to power through this labyrinth on sheer strength alone, even unarmed, but Uriel…

But, he thought, more distressing than the theoretical was the reality. It all came down to finding Azrael. If only…

Abaddon paused in his movements. He had magics of his own. Nothing refined, only enough to unsilence his friend, but perhaps…

Abaddon closed his eyes and allowed himself to feel the heat of Hell, the malevolence pushing in against his soul, and reached…

There! In the darkness—a single light, one that nearly outshone his own.

Abaddon opened his eyes. He knew where to find Azrael.

* * *

Uriel's eyes narrowed. "Lilith."

"However did you escape that room?" Lilith asked. "I felt the seal come undone. Even if your magical ability has grown substantially since our… argument, I highly doubt you could have bested your jailor."

Uriel did bother with honesty. "I am leaving, Lilith, and your whole fortress couldn't stop me."

"I won't need my whole fortress. Foolish angel! I see I've delayed our fun together for long enough."

The walls behind each of them swelled, turning their stretch of the hall into a tight and cramped room. Uriel's wings drew closer to her body by reflex.

"I'll punish you here and now," Lilith said with a sinful smile. "And then you will beg me to stay."

"Not likely!" Uriel declared, raising her stolen blade.

Lilith raised her hand for a spell, and Uriel braced herself. But whether she could have defeated the Queen of Hell without the ancient magic which had betrayed her last time, they would never know: the wall behind Lilith convulsed, shrieked, and split open to admit a familiar blur of black fur.

It happened so quickly even Uriel shouted in alarm. Kelev was upon his master in an instant, knocking her over from behind and pinning her to the ground, grinning at Uriel when he was done.

"What are you doing?!" Lilith demanded, struggling to throw him off.

Uriel couldn't help herself. She stepped up to the fallen demon—killing her was unlikely to be this easy, or even in their best interest, but Uriel had had quite enough of her.

"Guarding your prisoner."

And she stomped on her, slamming her boot down on Lilith's head with all her might.

At once the walls shuddered and drew back, revealing several passageways which had certainly not been there before. Kelev leaped off of Lilith and took off, showing her which one to choose.

"Wait!" Uriel went off after him, nearly tripping not ten feet from her starting point. She looked down—her sword! Kelev must have retrieved it for her.

She hurriedly switched blades and continued at a run, and none too soon; the relaxed state of Lilith's home lasted only seconds, and suddenly the walls convulsed and swelled again, sweating and trembling with rage.

Uriel slashed at a membrane which had gotten uncomfortably close, and it drew sharply away from her. The heat had somehow become even more oppressive. Out, out, where was the way out…?

A chorus of shouts rose somewhere to her left, alongside a feral snarl. There!

Uriel cut open the wall and squeezed awkwardly through, and for all her haste was too late. Kelev sat happily in the center of a mess of bodies, pools of black blood, panting cheerfully and looking for all the world like an overgrown house dog.

"Good boy," Uriel said with a laugh.

Kelev barked in agreement, and together they set off, ripping, tearing, slicing their way through hidden corridors and wet skin, until suddenly, finally—

The flesh of Lilith's home gave way to brimstone and smoke, the air less enticing but more hostile, more unclean, more monstrous.

Uriel launched herself into the air and breathed of it gratefully, not caring that it coated her throat and stuck there.

Freedom!


	8. He walked alone and sorrowing

Well, that Saturday update never happened. Much of the last bit of this chapter hasn't been proofread, but you've waited long enough; I'll do it in the morning probably.

Now, that Saturday after the last update was my birthday, and apparently it is Hobbit tradition to give gifts to other people on your birthday, so... Happy birthday to me! Hope you guys enjoy!

 **Chapter 7: _He walked alone and sorrowing_**

Now that she was free, Uriel's situation had improved considerably. Though she would never, ever wish ill upon her friends, knowing they were prisoners made them significantly easier to find, and where she had arrived in Hell alone she now had a companion.

"To the Blood Throne!" she cried, and with a howl of agreement Kelev took off, bounding over rock and chasm nearly as fast as Uriel flew.

Just a little longer. Whatever trials they faced, they need only last a little longer…

* * *

Unfortunately, knowing where Azrael was did not make getting to him much easier. Mazes being what they were, it was still difficult to find the path that led to him, although Abaddon thought his light felt stronger down some paths than others.

All that mattered, though, was that he had hope now. Find and unsilence Azrael, heal his injuries, break out together. And then…

Something in his chest tightened. And then save Uriel from Lilith.

Abaddon now realized what Azrael had seen in an instant: Uriel could only be in Hell because she had followed them. He had hoped the leaderless Hellguard would keep her in Heaven, away from danger, but of course Uriel of all people would never allow him to make such a journey without her. And with her devotion to the law being what it was…

Cold fear gripped him then. What must she think of him now? Abandoning his post with no notice, luring her into captivity under such an awful master, and for what was ultimately a personal indulgence… Suddenly he despaired of ever earning her regard back.

How would he face her after this?

But… no. It mattered not. Even if she no longer wished as he did—for Abaddon knew she had, once, and that knowledge only made this line of thought worse—he would never leave her to rot in the hands of that harlot.

* * *

Kelev knew the way to Samael's home, thankfully; he crossed the blasted plains in leaps and bounds, and Uriel followed overhead. Flying freely felt incredible after her imprisonment, but the novelty wore off quickly and again she was consumed by thoughts of the others.

What state they were in now, she did not know. What she did know was that she now had the power to assist them, and would not leave Hell until they were free as well—one way or the other.

Sooner than Uriel might have expected Samael's stronghold began to loom in the distance, a black tower of jagged edges at the end of a long bridge guarding the entrance. Uriel dropped lower when she saw it, wishing to avoid being noticed before they were ready.

So close. She was so close.

"I don't think we can just demand their freedom," Uriel said in a low voice. "Do you know of any way to get in undetected?"

Kelev answered her with a thoughtful rumble, loping to the edge of the ravine separating them from Samael's fortress. Uriel followed, peering down into the abyss warily. She had no fear of heights, but the unnatural darkness at the bottom made her leery of the edge anyway.

Kelev snorted, and Uriel looked at him: once he had her attention he took several steps in the direction of the bridge and looked back at her to see if she was following. She frowned and accompanied him to the edge of the bridge, where he gently tugged her to the ground and nudged her forward.

"Alone?!" she hissed.

Kelev shook his head and—to Uriel's amazement—vanished under the bridge, finding purchase on some ledge or outcropping no angel would have seen.

Not alone, then. But Uriel was still having difficulty seeing how this would get them to Abaddon and Azrael any easier.

Nothing to do but put her faith in Kelev, she thought, moving to cross the bridge with long strides.

Suddenly Samael's influence crashed down on her with enough force to stop her in her tracks, and at once she knew why Kelev had stayed behind. Samael would think she was alone.

Gaining confidence she raised her voice, and into Samael's stronghold called: "Come and face me, Blood Prince!"

* * *

The attacks were coming less often now.

Azrael should have been relieved, but he felt only increasing apprehension. The chances of them giving up before they at least attempted a group effort were rather low in his estimation, which left the possibility that they were planning something…

He took a deep breath to study himself. Or, it could mean their attention was occupied… elsewhere.

Why hadn't he taken his chances against Samael and Lilith? True, Abaddon would have paid the price, but he had known the risks when they set out. Maybe, maybe Azrael could have snatched him away before he was slain, and he would be recovering in the White City by now, while Azrael led a force to rescue Uriel… Abaddon's condition would be entirely his fault, but at least Azrael would know what became of him.

Of course, he thought bitterly, whatever Abaddon's current condition may be, it was already his fault.

Azrael had stopped at a fork in the labyrinth, considering which road to take, when he heard it: in the absence of his own footsteps, a strange, muffled scuffling in the distance. Growling. A struggle.

Abaddon!

* * *

As expected, Samael did not meet Uriel's challenge immediately; his minions poured out of the fortress in waves, and fell either by Uriel's blade or by being thrown off the bridge. Kelev declined to make an appearance, but that suited Uriel just fine, and soon the corpses of fallen demons littered the ground at her feet.

At this point, Uriel thought, they may as well force their way inside and challenge Samael there instead. Certainly it would be faster. But she was unsure if Samael knew of Kelev's invulnerability, and jealously hoarded any advantage over him she still had.

Finally, when Uriel began to run out of space to move and considered taking to the air, a low horn sounded from inside the fortress. The remaining demons turned tail and fled, climbing over the bodies of their comrades, and a flame shot up from the depths of the stronghold, leaving a long trail of smoke.

Uriel set her shoulders back. Now the real fight began.

The force of Samael's landing cleared the bridge, sending corpses over the edge into the abyss as he crashed against the stone. He straightened, a great red beast towering over her, and smiled.

"I'm impressed, Uriel. Very few who fall into Lilith's clutches escape to tell the tale."

"I have other business to tend to," Uriel said blankly.

Samael laughed. "And if Abaddon and Azrael together could not best me, what makes you believe you could do so alone? You are in my domain, and you are no match for me."

I know, Uriel agreed silently. But she knew someone who was.

"You will release them at once," Uriel said. "I will not leave Hell without them."

"Careful, Uriel! You may not leave Hell at all." Samael's smile curled into something vicious, and he crouched, spreading his wings. "I will show you your foolishness, and then give you the reunion you desire."

He charged, and Uriel leaped to meet him, sword in hand.

* * *

Slamming things into walls was only an effective strategy as long as Abaddon had both strength and opportunity to do so, and the demons were determined to rob him of both. They had finally attempted an attack from both sides, and Abaddon was hard-pressed to defend himself.

He had no room to maneuver, nowhere to go. Even as he grabbed one wolf by the scruff of its neck three more bit down on the outstretched limb, on his wings, tearing into him with teeth and claws. Abaddon roared in pain, and with a surge of adrenaline snapped the neck of the hound he held, but could not break the grip of its comrades; a chunk of his shoulder came away in the mouth of one, and this time he bit back his cry.

Samael had to be watching. He wouldn't give that demon the satisfaction.

But there didn't seem to be an end in sight. He struggled in vain, losing flesh and blood and nearly consciousness until, with an odd swooping sensation in his gut, he locked eyes with Azrael at the end of the hall.

* * *

Predictably, Samael had no trouble at all tossing Uriel around.

Literally as well as figuratively: throwing her off the bridge did little except bruise her pride, but it was certainly annoying, and presented the possibility of draining her stamina or injuring her wings too badly to recover. She could not see the bottom of the abyss, but she could not shake the feeling it was not the fall that would kill her down there.

She had to lead him to the end of the bridge, or she would run out of strength and fall captive again. If only he would throw her backwards instead…

Uriel charged, propelling herself forward at her opponent and meeting with resistance before she reached him, blade catching on some unseen obstacle in mid-air. Samael took the opportunity to knock her backward, shaking his head as she stumbled and fell.

"Pathetic."

"You can say that again after I've smeared you across your gate."

Samael deadpanned, unimpressed, and in the blink of an eye he was behind her—she turned, not ready, and was caught in her grip as he snatched her by the head and squeezed—

And threw her back towards the end of the bridge, at least allowing her some progress for her trouble.

Uriel pushed herself to one knee and cradled her head—yes, her skull hurt, but she feigned more pain than she felt, hoping Samael would take advantage…

And take advantage he did, appearing behind Uriel once again. He raised an arm over his head and brought it down again with frightening speed, clearly expecting resistance.

But it did not come where he expected it.

Kelev shot out from his hiding spot under the bridge like a black blur and tackled him, throwing his aim off. Uriel cast away her act and leaped to her feet as they struggled, Samael taking to the air in an attempt to throw the hound off.

Invincible against angels and demons, Uriel thought, but not against gravity. Samael would throw him off the bridge!

Uriel took flight and distanced herself, creating room for a figurative running start. It seemed like an eternity to her, too big a window for Samael to ruin everything, but it was only a moment before she shot forward with all her might, colliding with the struggling pair.

Both of them separately dwarfed her in size, but her momentum was enough: the impact sent all three, angel, demon and hound tumbling the rest of the distance to the cliff, crashing to the hard stone ground.

A burning hand snatched at Uriel's wing and let go just as suddenly, and she hurriedly disentangled herself from the confused jumble and stumbled back to watch.

With Kelev in his element now there was only one possible outcome: instants into the brawl he saw his chance and took it, jaws closing unforgivingly upon Samael's throat. The demon snarled and fought and called up black flame to lick at matted fur, but no strength or magic could free him, and Kelev's grip held.

Uriel took up her sword again and rushed to her friend's aid, slicing high at a wing, then low at a knee—and between her efforts and Kelev's weight, Samael fell.

* * *

Azrael came upon them sooner than he expected to, and his heart leaped at the sight of his old friend. The dogs hanging off his every limb might have made for a comical addition if not for the blood they drew.

With a silent cry Azrael jumped to action, wings carrying him forward with a force he could not have achieved otherwise. The crashing blow killed one hound instantly and forced several others to abandon their portion of Abaddon's flesh, but it also brought Azrael too close to use his blade effectively. He yanked it free and struck out again, drawing black blood, and then they were upon him.

Pain tore through him as demonic teeth ripped easily through his robes, but he was not incapacitated yet; he slashed again, just enough freedom and leverage to make the wolf on his right howl in pain, letting go of him—and with a flick of his wrist as though he wielded little more than a knife, the beast's head came off.

It was only one of many. They were a chaotic mess of teeth and claws, drawing pain and blood with every passing moment, and did not give him any more opportunity to strike back: one caught his arm as he used it to shield his throat, and two more bit down on his sword arm, locking it in place and tugging.

There was nothing he could do. With a snarl Azrael dropped the blade.

Distantly he heard Abaddon cry out for him, recognizing his voice even when he had no mind for words, and through the fog of agony the sound filled him with determination.

They would get out of here, if they had to fight for it with their bare hands!

* * *

Samael was pinned down in an instant, by Kelev's weight on his chest and Uriel's blade between his eyes, and Uriel saw a flash of rage and hatred before he calmed himself.

"Not bad, lieutenant. Tell me, does the White City fight alongside demons now?"

A wave of irritation swept through Uriel, but she forced herself not to rise to the bait. "Give me command of your stronghold!"

"Looking for a new vacation home?"

Uriel pressed her blade into his flesh. "Don't stall, demon! You are defeated, and I am taking my reward. You can have it back when we leave."

Samael sneered. "And what makes you think I'll give up my home for such a puny threat? There are worse fates than death and defeat, little angel."

Kelev growled and tightened his grip, black liquid welling up under his teeth.

"Indeed there are!" Uriel said. "We will kill you, and your dark lord will draw your soul from the Well—Azrael is not there to guard it—and under his gaze you will languish and burn for eternity. He only has a use for you if you live, Samael, and if you are useless then there is nothing to stop him from venting his rage upon you. Give me your stronghold!"

Samael bared his teeth and snarled, rage burning in his eyes, but Uriel spoke truly, and blood dripped from his throat in Kelev's jaws. With a curse he spat at her in demonic, giving her the words which would transfer ownership of his stronghold over to her.

With grim satisfaction she stepped away and motioned for Kelev to do the same. He looked at her doubtfully, but obeyed; a burst of magic sent Uriel sprawling backward onto the ground, and with one last spiteful glare Samael vanished into a whirl of flame.

Kelev bounded to her side, nosing at her with concern.

"I'm fine," Uriel said, sitting up and throwing her arms around his neck. The hound yelped in surprise, but calmed, nuzzling in closer.

Thank you, Uriel thought, her throat suddenly too dry to say it.

She let go of him and with a sigh pushed to her feet. She had felt Samael's words thrum with power as he spoke them, and there was no doubt in her mind that he had told the truth.

Facing the tower at the entrance Uriel spoke the black tongue of the demons for the first time in her life; her voice rang out through the air, through darkness and stone, and she took mastery over Samael's home; at her spirit's command the doors threw themselves open and the flames towered and spat, suddenly purified, and in an instant the black walls and unforgiving stone didn't seem so foreboding anymore.

"I know where they are," she said out loud to Kelev, and took to the air without him.

* * *

Suddenly relieved of half his burden Abaddon still had little opportunity to come to Azrael's aid. The hounds that stayed were relentless, and if his own strength were failing he could not imagine what Azrael must be feeling at the moment, so unused to such brutal combat.

Through the chaos of battle Abaddon caught a glimpse of his friend biting down on the flesh of one wolf and yanking, flesh and part of an eye coming away in his teeth. He was then momentarily occupied with his own situation, but next he looked Azrael was dealing with one fewer of them, blood dripping off his chin and a strange, wide-eyed look of fury.

Abaddon had heard tales of strength granted by fear and fey anger, but undisciplined angels were a rarity in Heaven. Very seldom did he have the opportunity to confirm the myth, so collected were the angelic warriors he commanded, but as Azrael pried open the mouth of one of his opponents and tore the head off at the jaw Abaddon found himself believing it.

He actually winced a little. Azrael would feel those teeth marks in his hands in the morning.

Now that they actually had a chance to see tomorrow morning. Abaddon threw himself to one side, breaking the grip of one and smashing the other into the wall, finishing it off with one hand. If Azrael could do it then so could he! He took the remaining hound by the jaws and heaved, slowly forcing its mouth open as the second wolf regained its senses.

It pounced just as he freed himself, hastily releasing the first hound and meeting the next with a fist. Dazed again it gave Abaddon opportunity to smash the other into the wall, once, twice, killing it, and finally one-on-one he had no trouble doing the same to his last opponent.

Finally, finally, Abaddon dived and reclaimed his sword from the ground.

Reunited at last!

Without thought he stood and slashed away at Azrael's assailants, felling them all without putting a scratch on the scholar himself, feeling a vindictive pleasure as he watched their blood run through the cracks in the floor. But the feeling subsided when Azrael sank to the ground, and he saw with horror that his friend had sustained more injury in his brief struggle than Abaddon had all this time since he'd awoken.

Dropping his sword Abaddon collapsed at his friend's side, gathering the other into his arms and whispering under his breath. Abaddon had no healing magics, but Azrael did. If he would just stay conscious long enough…!

* * *

Uriel flew through the high halls and past the dark towers without seeing a thing, thinking only of her friends. Samael had not merely taken them prisoner; in her mind's eye she saw a labyrinth, closed off from the rest of Hell by a curse and populated by beasts which would tear them limb from limb if allowed. With the barest mental effort she dispelled the cursed fog lingering at the top and the grate hidden behind it, knowing their location but not their condition, but hoping, hoping…

They had found each other, at least. They were not alone.

Finally Uriel came upon the maze from above, feeling some horror upon seeing the conditions of her friends' imprisonment for the first. She, at least, had been safe from harm, even if she had to deal with other threats. But they were strong, and still she hoped.

She took off again, making a beeline for the light she felt in her soul, not such a contrast against the new atmosphere but definitely standing out against the background of the infernal realm, and finally, finally, she caught a glimpse of white feathers.

"Abaddon!"

She touched down and surveyed the scene with a quick eye: hellhounds and pieces of hellhounds littered the ground, some with finger-sized streaks torn into them, one with a portion of its face missing—and there, cocooned in white wings…

Uriel hurried to their side. Both of them were dripping with their own blood, one strong form on its knees, a lighter frame held in his arms—Azrael breathed, Uriel knew, but with a sinking heart she saw that his eyes gazed unseeing into the air, as though he actually were dead.

"I swore no harm would befall him," Abaddon rasped, and collapsed against her in a dead faint.


	9. The trembling starlight of the skies

Originally Azrael really was going to die and this was going to be a chapter about Feelings, but at the last moment I felt that would be a cruel thing to spring on a reader without warning, and… I don't want to give a warning just now. XD; As a result, an awful lot of plot and things had to be changed and what would have been a really juicy chapter is now mostly just kinda boring. I might change my mind when I inevitably rewrite this whole thing after it's done, but for now I'll just have to deal with it. Enjoy though!

 **Chapter 8: _The trembling starlight of the skies_**

Any relief Uriel might have felt at finding them both alive was summarily extinguished, but she took a deep breath and decided not to linger on what-ifs. Returning to Heaven would be child's play now that she held mastery of the fortress, but there was a loose end or two to clean up first; she reached out to Kelev through her new bond with the stronghold, summoning him to her position in the maze. Finding Abaddon's armor would have been much easier with a hound's assistance, but in their current state Uriel was unsure if they had the time.

Silently, she took a moment to thank the Creator that she had gotten away mostly uninjured. She could laugh with her comrades about her broken nails later.

She set to work doing what she could for Azrael, binding his wounds until a bark brought her attention to the top of the wall. Kelev hopped down from his perch and looked questioningly at the two unconscious angels in a pile of demonic corpses.

"Alive," Uriel said, "but not out of danger yet. I'm taking them back to Heaven with me."

She reached out to him and he came obediently, nudging her hand with his nose until she gave him a friendly scratch.

"We would have died without your help, my friend, and I am eternally grateful. Go!" She withdrew her hand. "You are free now. Leave here, and accept no master."

Kelev nuzzled her hand, nosing at her affectionately, and Uriel wondered at how easy it was to interpret his movements. It seemed sometimes that he was more a person than a dog… He moved around her and plopped himself down, a soft, warm wall against her back.

"You want to come with us?"

He barked in the affirmative. Uriel frowned.

"You won't be very well-liked in Heaven, you know."

Kelev simply rolled his eyes at her.

"Ah, that's right. You can't be defeated by angels." Uriel reached out and ruffled a patch of fur. "Well, if you insist, you are more than welcome to accompany us. I would be more than happy to have you."

Kelev barked cheerfully, and in a flash of light they were gone.

* * *

Abaddon knew the moment he woke that he was no longer in Hell. Even with his eyes closed and his mind swimming numbly he could no longer sense the foul energies of the infernal realms, and in its place he felt a different burn, a brilliance nearly blinding.

Heaven. Home.

He struggled against a fog of lethargy to open his eyes, confirm his conclusion for himself, and cursed whatever medics must have tended to him—he abhorred anesthetics, painkillers, sleep agents, taking them only when absolutely necessary, and if he had been conscious when he arrived they would never have convinced him to do it voluntarily.

"Azrael," he breathed through a dry throat. He could not remember why Azrael was in danger, only that he was, and still had been when Abaddon's memory ended.

"The gatekeeper is safe," a faraway voice said distractedly. "Lieutenant Uriel brought you both to the White City."

Both of them… Yes, Azrael had found him. But still Abaddon was not satisfied. "Safe" wasn't good enough; he had to find Azrael, to see for himself…

The second half of the (healer's?) statement clicked in his mind.

"Uriel…?"

Yes, Uriel had been there—he'd seen her, brow creased in worry, but it had seemed impossible to him then. He'd believed her a hallucination, believed her to be in danger as well. She…

"Also safe," the voice said. "I believe she is being seen to before she gives her report, if they can drag her away from her forsaken new pet..."

There was a pinprick of pain in Abaddon's arm and he swore, knowing it well enough to recognize what it was, even in a haze.

"None of that," the voice scolded. "You need rest. And don't bother threatening me, because I am sure my superiors will agree."

Abaddon still cursed them again—so much to do, to find out—and the healer shook their head as he fell back into a drugged sleep.

"Warriors..."

* * *

"He is not dangerous," Uriel said for the third time that day. Between the guards and the medics and just about every person they met on their way here she was getting quite tired of explaining it. "He was a prisoner just as we were, and hates the demons as much as any angel."

"But he does not belong in our blessed realm," one of the lawgivers standing above said. "If what you say is true, he can fend for himself perfectly well in any other world."

"Do you not see the value in a hound that cannot be defeated?" Uriel argued. "Even without that advantage he is an incredible warrior, and my friend besides. We four would still be in Hell if not for him."

"He is still a demon." Another lawgiver shook her head. "There is no reason to believe he will not turn on us."

"He cannot even fly! This world is built around flight. We could simply push him off a balcony if it comes to that." She frowned. "And I wonder if he is truly a demon, for all that. He seems distinct from other hellhounds, and I know Lilith did not create him."

"You expect us to put our faith in him based on that alone?"

"I expect nothing." Uriel generally had no need of tact, believing her record to speak on her behalf, but today she was keenly aware of her disadvantage. And she really, really wanted to keep Kelev. "He wishes to remain in Heaven by my side. The decision is ultimately yours, but I believe that his loyalty to me, at least, is genuine. He is a dog after all."

The other angels glanced up at each other. Uriel wondered briefly if they had some form of silent communication to use between themselves, then decided that was a foolish question. Of course they did.

"If he betrays us, you will share his punishment."

Uriel brought herself to her full height, inwardly whooping in triumph. "Thank you."

The elder angel set their shoulders back. "As you are unable to tell us anything more of your superiors' ordeal, you may go. Well done, Uriel; you have earned your rest."

Uriel bowed shortly and left without further delay, speeding out through the archway on golden wings. There Kelev waited under guard, panting cheerfully at his jailors' obvious discomfort.

"Come, my friend!" Uriel said. "The council has agreed to let you stay."

Kelev barked and bounded forward, tackling her out of the air in a swift motion that startled the guards on either side of him. He only licked her face however, and laughing quietly Uriel pushed until he got off.

"I live in my own suite in the barracks. You may find it a little cramped, I think, but I can assure you it is much better than that harlot's putrid mound..."

* * *

Uriel then slept for over a day.

She hadn't quite realized just how little sleep she'd gotten since leaving, but she had known better than to seek it in Lilith's home, and the rest of her stay in Hell had been a flurry of activity. Kelev roused her only once, whining restlessly for his hunger, and she'd stumbled to the kitchen to pull out a slab of meat for him before dragging herself back to bed.

Her body was at least kind enough to grant her enough energy to stay awake the second time she rose, rolling her shoulders to get the kinks out of them and sleepily reaching over to pull the curtains back. Light poured in through the window and the musical hum of the White City could be heard through the enchanted glass, which summoned her waking mind back at once.

Business. There had been nothing she could do at the time, but now that she was rested she could wait no longer. She had to see Abaddon and Azrael.

She was already much too late to be of any use in her actual occupation, but she still hurried through her routine as though she actually intended to be there. Kelev greeted her like… well, like an overly excited dog, and when she scratched his head and came out into the kitchen to get him something to eat she found that he had apparently spent his time learning where to find everything. Her storage was significantly emptier than when she'd left it…

Uriel laughed. "Well, I haven't been making use of any of it lately, so I forgive you this once. But perhaps later we should split our food evenly."

Kelev barked sheepishly, and slunk away to living area without answering her further. ...Was his fur getting thicker?

One hastily cobbled-together meal later and Uriel was back in her armor, walking with Kelev to the medical wing where Abaddon and Azrael were being kept. Others startled or backed away when they approached, and Uriel could hardly blame them, but it meant that she could not afford to leave him alone and fly her way about the city. Suddenly she knew how most visitors must feel, forced to take such a roundabout path where angels had no need of roads.

Apparently she had been expected, for there was a guard waiting outside who approached her on wing the moment he saw her coming.

"Lieutenant!" He came to a stop before her and bowed briefly, straightening to hold out his hand with only a cursory glance at the great black hound following her. She decided she rather liked him. "A… message for you."

Uriel did not like the sound of that. She took it from him, and tore it open without looking at the seal. "How are they?"

"Lord Azrael has not yet awoken," the guard said solemnly. "The healers are not sure of his ailment, but they assure me that his physical injuries, at least, will not be fatal. They speculate that perhaps it has something to do with his emotional distress, as our mystics are frequently as arcane in their health as they are in their craft."

Uriel's chest tightened, but still a weight in her was lifted. As long as he lived, the healers would figure it out sooner or later. That left…

"And Abaddon?"

The guard paused. If she hadn't known better, she might have thought him apprehensive.

"That is what the note is about," he decided on.

Frowning, Uriel turned her full attention to the letter, pulling it free and unfolding it as Kelev poked his nose over her shoulder. There was only a single line written upon it, and if her heart hadn't dropped like a stone she might have marveled that Abaddon felt the need to seal it at all.

 _Do not follow me again._

The guard sighed at her expression. "He's gone."


	10. O'er stony mountains cold and grey

I am aro ace so please forgive this entire chapter. I tried, really I did.

 **Chapter 9:** _ **O'er stony mountains cold and grey**_

Uriel didn't even bother reporting back this time.

"I can't believe him," she said to Kelev, as they emerged from the rift between Above and Below. "He must have left as soon as he woke. Does he even know what became of Azrael?" Of her? Of course he could have heard it from the staff, but the fact that he hadn't stopped to speak with her stung. They needed to find him before he did something foolish…

"He cannot possibly have recovered in such a short time," she went on, surveying the area they had emerged in. The Dark Lord's stronghold lay nested in high, jagged mountains, but Kelev took off across the steep surface and found the path with ease—of course, he must have been here before. She followed without delay. "Could he not have waited if he truly wanted to try again? Could he not have seen to Azrael's recovery first? Ever has he been a being of action, but he is also a tactician and a leader. What could possibly justify such impatience?"

Kelev whined sympathetically as he ran. She hated to drag him back here so soon, only days after his escape, but his sense of smell would be invaluable in finding Abaddon. Again. And he had not hesitated to follow her when she had prepared hastily to leave; with her until the end, then, or at least until she had to send him away.

Uriel herself had no desire to be here. She would never allow another to fetch Abaddon, but the thought of returning had carved a pit in her chest she'd done her best to ignore. She was a warrior of the Hellguard: her strength must last far longer than that.

"…I have never disobeyed a request Abaddon has made of me, official or otherwise," Uriel remarked out loud. He expected unquestioning obedience, and she knew none who withheld it from him. "I suppose it never occurred to him that I would start now."

Kelev stopped suddenly, causing Uriel to nearly pass him by; he stood on alert, ears pointing forward and listening intently.

"Wh—"

He barked viciously, cutting her off, and darted away—over a boulder, around a cliff, yowling like the hellhound he appeared to be. Snapping to attention Uriel followed, sword in hand, rounding the corner and—

Stopping at the sight of not one, but two black beasts, one sporting a rider swathed in red.

Silver hair. Black blade.

"Horseman!" Uriel exclaimed, surprise seeping into her voice.

He hadn't even waited for her greeting; his blade came down as she spoke and too late Uriel realized who his target must have been, but Kelev was ready for it. He dived aside and vanished into the darkness, leaping over a break in the cliff and disappearing from sight.

War's mouth pulled back in annoyance, and Ruin snorted in agitation: all three of them, horse, rider and angel waited, but Kelev did not appear again.

Well, Uriel thought, War was certainly neither angel nor demon. But she'd never thought of Kelev as a coward…

"…You are alone," War noted, apparently deciding that the hellhound would not return. Or else that Ruin would hear it before it drew too near…

"I came here in search of something," Uriel said. War tended to appreciate sincerity. "I had no intention of starting a fight."

"And your quarry travels alone," War guessed.

Uriel brandished her blade at him before she could stop herself, but though Ruin pawed restlessly at the ground War only narrowed his eyes. "Heaven's business here is Heaven's alone! I suggest you return to yours, Horseman."

"Our business is the same," War said, causing Uriel's heart to sink. "The Charred Council has no more desire to see Abaddon face the Prince of Lies than Heaven does."

Spies, Uriel thought bitterly, but did not say; Heaven had its spies as well, and the Charred Council would not be half as competent at its job without them.

"He will fail," War went on, perhaps mistaking her expression for suspicion, "and tip the Balance in Hell's favor when he Falls."

Uriel bristled, despite having thought the same thing. "Abaddon would never—"

"All in Hell's clutches Fall eventually. The Prince of Lies would not give up such a valuable servant." War's grip on Chaoseater relaxed, but otherwise he was stock-still, and Uriel knew he stood ready for an attack if she lost her patience. "We would prevent that, one way or another."

One way or another.

"You won't kill Abaddon," Uriel declared.

"Not if he can be persuaded."

And War was nothing if not 'persuasive'. But, Uriel thought uneasily, none had yet managed to alter Abaddon's course, either through counsel or force.

"But otherwise?"

"We will uphold the Balance," War said, in a tone that left no room for argument.

Uriel's grip on her blade tightened. "I will go with you."

"No."

Her eyes widened. "You know what he wants! If anyone can persuade him, I can!"

"And if not?" The line of War's mouth thinned. "Would you fight your liege? Could you strike him down, even for his own safety? Knowing what must await him in the White City?"

That was true. No matter what horrors he would face in Hell if captured, he still had little to look forward to at home. Too valuable to demote, but no matter the official consequences he would always carry the stigma of having broken the law for love. Without the glory of unexpected triumph, he would return having broken his word twice over, and nothing to show for it.

It was unfair, Uriel thought. If she brought him home now, his otherwise shining record would be stained irreparably. If he succeeded, all would be forgiven, and they would call him a hero and sing of him forever…

War shook his head at her silence.

"Return home," he said. "We will find Abaddon if we can."

Uriel's thoughts returned to the present. "You'll kill him! I know he won't be convinced."

"Then let him serve as an example to the rest of your kind."

Steeling herself, she rose a little higher in the air. "You'll have to kill me first, Horseman."

War was entirely unconcerned. "So be it."

When he pulled on the reins Ruin reared with a mighty cry, flames bursting from his hooves, and at the very peak of the impressive show Kelev struck.

He leaped with a snarl, claws outstretched, and bowled the great warhorse over. Its rider was thrown clear from the saddle, and once on his side Ruin could do nothing to defend himself from the hound tearing at his flesh.

War hastily pushed himself up on an elbow, and seeing Ruin's predicament his eyes blazed with sudden rage.

With a cry Uriel dived, swinging her sword, but the horseman roared and knocked her away like an insect. Her sword tumbled uselessly from her grip.

"War!"

No use. War was blind and deaf to all but his companion's danger, and no prophecy would protect Kelev from him.

He had a blade, but Uriel had wings; she shot forth and collided with him, but he was sturdier on the ground than Samael had been in the air, and there was no time to waste gaining speed—

A gauntlet clawed at her collar and War yanked her over his shoulder, barely noticing as her wings slammed into his head on the way. Unable to regain her feet, Uriel grasped—at him, his hand, anything—

—And pried Chaoseater from his grip as easily as though he were a child.

War actually let go in his shock, Ruin temporarily forgotten. He looked about as bewildered as Uriel felt when she scrambled upright, his mouth falling open in disbelief.

He was wide open, and Uriel was never one to let an opportunity pass her by.

Chaoseater cracked across his skull with more strength than Uriel was capable of, and with one last astonished look its rightful wielder collapsed in a heap.

Uriel could not help but stand there and stare at him dumbly, almost not believing what had just happened.

A whine behind her brought Uriel back to reality, and she turned to find that Ruin had finally thrown Kelev off, concern and anger lending him the strength to struggle upright. And behind her, War stirred already.

"Run!" she cried, and shot off, back the way she came and then down their original path. Kelev was not far behind her, she could hear, but she dared not look upon the Horseman and rekindle his fury.

Instead, she turned her gaze to the black weapon she now carried. It had been neither luck nor strength that freed it from War's hand.

"If this is how you treat your owner," Uriel told it, "I hate to think what you might do to me."

Somewhere in the back of her mind, someone laughed.

* * *

At least this time Abaddon appeared where he intended, and not in Samael's throne room before a very inhospitable host.

The healers had done their work well as always, and with such a hardy constitution it was not long before he had regained consciousness despite all their attempts to keep him from it. Aching but determined, there was little that could keep him confined to a bed if he had a mind to be elsewhere.

Azrael had not awoken.

Swathed in bandages and unusually still, the sorcerer had seemed much smaller than Abaddon remembered him. He was not generally in danger of physical attack when he went to battle, and though this was far from the first time he'd been so grievously injured it certainly was the first time it had happened on account of Abaddon.

He hadn't wanted to go to Hell, but by the Creator he'd done his best once there.

Abaddon had written his note and left after that. The sooner he finished the better and… knowing Uriel was safe had been enough for him.

Now he flew low among the mountains, knowing better than to repeat Azrael's mistake of arriving right at the Dark Lord's gates. He knew to remain hidden, but beyond that there was nothing resembling a plan forming in his mind. Without Azrael there was no reason for anyone to believe he'd come for anything other than a fight. He could not battle his way to the Prince of Lies all by himself. Abaddon knew he had to keep his purpose secret for any hope of success, but otherwise he despaired of what to do.

Alone in Hell Abaddon was feeling particularly honest with himself, and he cursed his inconvenient pride. _Return with a jewel in hand_. Now for his dignity as much as his feelings.

One thing was for certain: he did not want to be seen until he decided what to do. So he kept low, and split his attention between keeping an eye out for stray demons and considering his options.

Some time after his arrival (he was tragically familiar with the lay of the land here, he thought, but such familiarity came with living for so long) there was an unfortunately familiar sound behind him. Startled, he darted to the side as he turned around; he'd had quite enough of the hounds of the Pit, thank you very much, but he couldn't afford to ignore…

There was a hellhound as expected, a black brute of a beast with patchy fur, but trailing after it in the air was something not remotely of Hell—all gold and silver, glowing with the familiar light of Heaven.

Uriel!

"Don't!" she called, as his gaze returned to the hound. He stopped himself and watched as she let herself fall, felt every muscle go stiff when she wrapped her arms around the demonic beast.

…What?

He longed for demonic blood, but Uriel was still, and the dog made no move to harm her. Reluctantly, Abaddon instead went down to greet them—no use in running from her now.

He stopped midflight when he caught sight of the weapon in her hand.

"Is that—?!"

"Abaddon!" Uriel left the hound's side to meet him, black blade in hand. Abaddon wanted to say something, anything, to head off the wave of ire he would no doubt face if he gave her the first word, but his mind was filled with bewildered questions instead. If he was curious about the dog, that was nothing compared to his feelings about how she might have obtained Chaoseater, of all things.

Once before him Uriel hesitated, looking conflicted, but Abaddon watched as she summoned up her courage and spoke:

"Did you believe I would remain behind as you ran off to endanger your life pointlessly? Again?"

Abaddon shook his head. He hadn't known what to think when he wrote that note, but it had seemed necessary at the time. "I had hoped…"

"I followed you the first time on the Assembly's orders," she said. "But now I come of my own volition. How could you?! After all I have done to bring you home safely you simply leave the moment you are able?"

Abaddon found himself setting his shoulders back, raising his chin in a gesture reminiscent of defiance even as guilt squirmed in his gut. "My decision has not changed."

"Could you not wait even a day? Could you not spare a single moment to speak with me, or any of the others who have been waiting anxiously for your return? Did you have to leave right away?"

"Perhaps I was irrational," Abaddon conceded, silently grateful when Uriel did not cut him off right there. "But as I said, my decision has not changed—I am still determined to see this through, and the quicker we see the end of this the better."

Uriel puffed up indignantly, in that way she always did. "I simply wonder if you realize how absurd you appear. Not a single thing you have done, from the moment you asked leave to marry me, has made sense to anyone else."

She deflated then, apparently at a loss, and suddenly Abaddon ached for her. He… would not trade places with her, he decided, would much rather be the one given a choice in the matter.

He let himself down on the ground—it felt solid and reassuring, a much better place to have the conversation than in the air—and she followed, regaining her words as she landed.

"We would have been together forever anyway," she said. "Is my friendship not good enough for you?"

"Above all else, your friendship is what I cherish most!" Abaddon said fiercely. "But though the law states that it is not the emotion, but the confession which is a crime—willful dereliction of duty!—and that remaining silent is the noble choice, I cannot say that it is a choice at all. The decision has been made for me, and that knowledge sours what would otherwise have been a source of silent joy."

He'd had other, less forbidden loves, Abaddon remembered bitterly. Though they had all ended equally unfulfilled, none of them had inspired this terrible, heart-stopping feeling that kept him awake at night, and invariably followed after his softer thoughts.

"I won't stand it any longer," he said. "I'll get rid of it, or lose everything trying. You may call me selfish if you wish, but if I do nothing I am certain it will swallow me until I revile our White City, and the lot I have been dealt, with all the passion I had once used to defend it."

"Is the weight of that anguish equal to the weight of what you will endure should you fail?"

"Yes," Abaddon said. "If I am to become an enemy of Heaven, then I would rather regret something I did than something I did not do."

A muscle in Uriel's jaw tightened. "You are proud, and will not admit that you have walked into a trap of your own making."

She didn't have to be so blunt about it. "That is true. I can no longer return until I have succeeded, for fear of losing the respect others once held in my word."

But, he didn't say, he couldn't quite bring himself to see it as a flaw. Let it not be said that Abaddon did not keep his word!

Uriel made a strange expression, and if Abaddon had not known better he might have thought her… bitter.

"That is why I am not here to take you back," she said. "I am going with you."

Abaddon's mouth fell open, and a cold lance of fear shot through him.

"Do not argue! I was content before all of this! I never cared about that which lay between us; I was happy to stand by your side, and serve you as your most trusted lieutenant. I wanted nothing more. But now if we return to Heaven we shall be two bitter angels who cannot find happiness in each other, or even the memory of each other should I return alone and leave you here to fail. I am going with you, and we shall meet our fate together, whatever it may be."

In an increasingly common occurrence something in Abaddon's chest tightened. If there was one thing he did not want, it was to be responsible for Uriel's life as well.

She stepped forward, her face set obstinately. "I don't suppose you have a plan?"

Abaddon was still so taken aback he could not help but answer honestly. "No." And then, to change the subject: "Where did you get that?"

Uriel scowled, but looked down at her blade as though she'd forgotten it was there. Despite its rough material Chaoseater appeared to gleam in the infernal light. "I was accosted by the Horseman War on my way here; he had also come searching for you, and we came to blows over how to handle all of this. I believe it knows we are on our way to meet the Prince of Lies and wishes to accompany us—it turned on War when I snatched at it, and here it is."

"It's a demonic blade," Abaddon reminded her.

"I know that! Merely carrying it has taken an enormous effort." She scowled even deeper. "But my own sword is now out of reach, and anything that affords us an advantage is priceless at this point."

That was true, but Abaddon was not looking forward to eventually returning it to its rightful owner. It was frightening enough to know how close Uriel must have come to dying on its edge…

He turned his attention to the hellhound, patiently waiting where Uriel had stopped it. "And that?"

Uriel turned around, and the hound was at her side in an instant, looking at Abaddon with stony eyes.

"This is Kelev," Uriel said. "He was a servant of Lilith. I ran into her on my way to find you—"

Abaddon tensed but said nothing.

"—and he helped me escape. Now he is a friend. And I do not believe he is actually a demon," she went on without pause, and Abaddon remembered briefly that many at the healing wards had spoken of Uriel's 'infernal new pet' and her vain attempts to defend it: "Because quite frankly he seems much smarter than that, and mere hellhounds are rarely beasts of prophecy as he is."

"What kind of prophecy?"

"Kelev cannot be killed or defeated by angels or demons. And before you ask, I point out that he once belonged to Lilith, and the Prince of Lies is probably going to recognize his own dog." She shook her head. "Kelev bested Samael through the element of surprise, but if the Dark Lord allowed Lilith to keep him without creating some failsafe for this exact circumstance then he is an utter fool."

Kelev did not look like a friend to Abaddon—it stared at him with a look that told the archangel exactly what the hound thought of him and his decisions—but if it had faced Samael on Uriel's behalf, then Abaddon probably owed it his life.

And Azrael's.

"If you trust it, then I will," he said. "But it is true: we will need a plan, and we do not have one."

Uriel frowned thoughtfully. "Kelev ought to know of some secret way into the fortress. If we remain unnoticed, we could simply make our way to the throne room and leave him to deal with the other inhabitants while we obtain the jewel."

Abaddon growled, but made no argument. They had no other ideas. "That will do for now. Let us go, then, and may history judge our choices."

And so one became three: Abaddon took off, and with one last affectionate rub of Kelev's head Uriel followed, and together they made their way to Hell's most infamous citadel.


	11. Huge cliffs in ruin slide and fall

**Chapter 10: _Huge cliffs in ruin slide and fall_**

Uriel had never seen the center of Hell in person; born after the ceasefire she'd had neither the need nor the opportunity. When the mountains broke and revealed the citadel she froze in shock. She'd thought herself inured to majesty and wonder, having lived in the White City all her life, but the demonic fortress was something else entirely. It rose out of the cliffs as one single mass, a mountain in its own right, taller than the Argent Spire—taller than most of Heaven!—and all over snaked its myriad passageways, demons crawling into and out of countless orifices like so many ants on a mound.

"Built to match its fell lord," Abaddon said. Uriel spared him a glance to acknowledge his words, then turned back to the citadel. The number of demons that must lie within…

Kelev, Uriel realized, must have been given the run of the place when he had yet been Lilith's thrall. He led them down past the entrance and made a wide berth of the walls until they arrived at what must have been his usual entrance: the slope of the cliff was just shallow enough for him to climb, and when the three of them quickly made their way over the wall there was no one in sight.

"Will it be this quiet all the way?" Uriel wondered.

"We must face the Prince of Lies regardless of how much resistance we encounter beforehand." Abaddon squinted into the unnatural light of the stronghold—perhaps reaching out to detect enemies, Uriel thought. "We can wait no longer; we are alone, so let us devise a plan before we go any further. Even if we cannot bring..." He shot Kelev an apprehensive look. "...your friend with us to the throne room, he may still be of more use than merely a guide."

"Kelev has enormous strength independent of his natural resistance, and fears no battle," Uriel said. Kelev actually puffed up proudly at her side and she felt a surge of affection for him. "I'm certain he won't mind keeping watch while we are in the hall."

"Yes, about that..." Abaddon frowned. "Azrael's plan had been to make him drowsy enough to simply take a jewel right out of his crown. Obviously that is out of the question now, but we yet have an advantage; even if Lilith and Samael have told him everything, he will not know to expect you."

Uriel saw immediately where this was going and bristled angrily, but he went on:

"We will sneak in as far as possible to conserve our strength, but now that we are more than one we can afford some overt action. I will use the main doors to the hall; you must find your own way in."

Uriel did not like the idea of Abaddon announcing himself so openly, but decided to use the less obvious argument for now. "What makes you so sure there is another entrance?"

Abaddon gave her a strange look. "I forget sometimes that you are too young to remember our wars of old. We never did gain entrance to the citadel, but I have seen demons pour into the air from its depths. I do not know how the defenses have changed since then, but if the jewels' power is not exaggerated then the old ways they once used ought to be clear nowadays."

"So I shall lie in wait above."

"Yes." Abaddon crossed his arms. "At this point my best excuse for this visit is vengeance for Azrael, which is likely to result in a fight."

"This does not sound like a plan at all," Uriel pointed out uneasily.

"The jewels are quite small for the crown they are set upon, so you should be able to pry one out without being noticed if you choose your moment carefully."

"Abaddon," Uriel said, "that's hardly any better than the two of us simply walking in there together."

The look Abaddon gave her suggested that he agreed, but he set his jaw grimly. "Even together we could not possibly defeat him. A distraction of some sort is our only choice. Once we have it we can simply warp out—"

Kelev barked shortly and shook his head.

"—fly out and return to Heaven." He fell silent a moment. "It is a poor chance, but that is all we ever had."

That was true, but Uriel's heart clenched at the reality of it. "Take Chaoseater," she said. "That is what it's here for, after all."

"And how am I to explain how I obtained it? Our standing with the Charred Council is poor enough without humiliating one of its messengers."

True. Uriel sighed; if anyone could keep the Dark Lord distracted long enough to pull this off, it was Abaddon and no other. "I will believe in your strength, Abaddon. But if I see a better way, I will take it."

"Please do," Abaddon said. He looked at Kelev. "I suppose we should waste no more time, then."

Kelev nodded and slunk off, and wordlessly the two angels followed.

* * *

Demons. All around them.

Abaddon had to admit, Kelev was seeming less and less like a demon by the second: the archangel could feel them crawling all over the fortress, but Kelev gave off no such darkness, and led them with a sure foot through deserted roads and corridors. For such an absurdly large dog he had found many secret hideaways for himself, and while there had been some waiting for stragglers to move on the three of them had not otherwise encountered a single demon.

Perhaps he should have been relieved that they were moving so quickly. But the thought of parting with Uriel again, possibly for the last time, set him on edge.

"You won't have much time to get into position," Abaddon said once it was time to split up. "Hurry, but wait for your chance—and do not linger if I am defeated."

This he said in the voice he reserved for giving orders. If he went down there would be nothing Uriel could do, but he knew that wouldn't stop her from trying.

The corner of her lips pulled back unhappily.

"My lord," she acknowledged, and with one last long look she shot off to find another way in.

Abaddon watched her go with a familiar tightness in his chest, then turned his gaze to Kelev. "See that she listens," he said in a low voice, despite knowing that the hound would be unable to follow her inside. Kelev rumbled in reply and set off after his master, and then Abaddon was alone.

Samael's labyrinth had seemed to press in on him from all sides, but here the walls were wide and high—darkness filled every corner, and with none by his side even Abaddon felt very small. Squaring his shoulders and drawing his blade, he walked instead of flying; that would not have matched the weight of the moment, knowing that one way or another his life as he knew it would end once he entered the hall.

At last he stood before the great doors. He thought of Uriel—of Azrael, who deserved better, and with the thought of those ancient friendships burning in his heart Abaddon reached out and threw open the doors.

Like a great yawning chasm the hall stretched out before him, taking up the bulk of the citadel's volume and stretching so high Abaddon could not see the ceiling. There were no pillars holding up its weight, nothing between him and the being on the throne at the far end.

Blue eyes. Silver hair. Pale skin. Black feathers hanging from beautiful wings. And, much more importantly, fingers as long as Abaddon was tall.

"Abaddon," Lucifer greeted in his low purr. "You've changed."

"You haven't," Abaddon spat, craning his neck to look the Prince of Lies in the face. This was Lucifer's favorite form: a Fallen Angel the size of a mountain, matching his oversized ego quite well in Abaddon's opinion. And upon his head sat Abaddon's prize: an iron crown, and tiny spots of light blazing out into the darkness.

"How very unlike you..." Lucifer said, stretching a black wing lazily. "...to steal into my home like a common thief."

Abaddon stiffened—he couldn't know!—but with the resolve of many eons pushed the thought away. "I've tried doing it the right way, but I'm not fond of your gatekeeper."

The Dark Lord let out a low and sinister laugh that Abaddon felt as much as he heard. Lucifer had a seduction of his own: everything about his form was flawless, lean muscle and scars in all the right places, and his ease and strength would have been admired in any angel. But more dangerously he inspired trust where he did not deserve it, and as Abaddon's remaining eye wandered to the black crown on his head he resolved not to be fooled.

"I heard of that… A disappointing show on all sides, to be sure." He rested his chin on his hand, and Abaddon thought perhaps pettily that he would never allow that slouch in any warrior of his. "Where is Azrael, old friend? Don't tell me—"

"We have never been friends!" Abaddon declared, taking flight and moving closer.

Lucifer was entirely unconcerned. "We will be. You are always welcome in this hall, Abaddon…"

"I am not here for your friendship."

Abaddon raised his blade; he itched to scan the ceiling, but searching for Uriel might give her away…

"You will pay for what has happened to Azrael!"

"Will that return him to health, Abaddon? Come now..." The demon's smile became terrifyingly genuine. "You claimed to come in peace when Samael asked… Why not finish Azrael's business for him, and I shall tell you of his ailment?"

Abaddon tensed—Lucifer of all people ought to know how to help Azrael, but he could make no promise Abaddon could trust and the archangel's hatred of demons was carved into his bones.

"Stand and fight, coward!"

Amusement flashed in bright eyes, and was quickly replaced by hungry anticipation as the great demon rose laboriously from his throne.

"Very well..."

* * *

Kelev had shown Uriel another way into the great hall, but could go no further, and alone she watched with mounting apprehension as Lucifer reached to the side. From the shadows he pulled a truly enormous warhammer, the head easily the size of a small house, and beholding him in all his majesty Uriel couldn't help but think what a handsome figure he cut. She had thought Lilith had married him for his power, but…

With a cry Abaddon launched himself forward, and Uriel snapped to attention again.

An aura unlike any she had ever witnessed burst from the demon's body and met Abaddon in flight, stopping his strike in midair even as he threw out his light to meet it. Lucifer swung his hammer; Abaddon dropped underneath it and tried again, piercing further into the Dark Lord's power before he came to a halt and drew away.

Uriel spread her wings, ready to take flight at a moment's notice. Even Abaddon could not win this battle. It was up to her to snatch a jewel away, and save both their lives before he fell.

Abaddon drew back to avoid being crushed underfoot and struck again, blade flashing as it cleaved through the darkness. But he was quickly swallowed again, and briefly letting go of his weapon Lucifer backhanded him hard enough to send him tumbling to the ground.

Uriel's gaze lifted to the pinpricks of light in Lucifer's crown. She had to wait until he was both preoccupied and standing still, or he would move and be alerted to her presence…

He swung again, and this time Abaddon shot forward. The blow fell upon the hand held closer to the hammer's head, but the armor held and the angel was forced to fall back again.

"You've come a long way to die, Abaddon..."

"We shall see."

Abaddon swung first, throwing himself against Lucifer's aura with all his might, falling away only when the hammer rose again. Again he dived, piercing deeper into the Dark Lord's power—

—until with a sudden swiftness Lucifer reached out and snatched him right out of the air.

"Abaddon!" Uriel cried out.

Two gazes snapped up to meet hers and too late she realized her mistake, horror blooming in her chest.

"Ah..." Lucifer's lips curled into a malevolent smile as Abaddon thrashed uselessly in his hand. "You did not come alone… Come, little light. Show me your face."

Chaoseater hummed excitedly from its place on Uriel's back and almost mechanically she obeyed, taking to the air and leaving her hiding spot behind. She felt it the moment his gaze found her properly: a darkness crowded in on her spirit, not the smell of brimstone but the quiet of her bedroom at night—familiar and safe, gently coaxing her guard down. The Prince of Lies.

"Run!" Abaddon shouted, and though his voice was steady Uriel looked and saw wild desperation in his eyes.

The Dark Lord's other hand left its spot on his warhammer and reached out to her, and Uriel recoiled instantly.

"Such radiant wings," he said admiringly. "So you are the Uriel I have heard so much about… Much of my realm considers you inconsequential, it pains me to say."

"I care not what Hell thinks," Uriel said proudly, though her voice sounded weak in the vast hall.

Lucifer laughed at her. "And yet, I sense your motive is far from selfless. What reason could you have for sneaking into my home under cover of darkness? Did you expect stealth to give you an easy victory? Did you hope to slay me while your liege drew my ire, and thus earn the glory of defeating Heaven's oldest enemy?"

When Uriel did not answer the demon looked down at the angel in his hand; Abaddon was so very small compared to him, and he gasped as the demon's hold tightened.

"Abaddon!"

"I have a much better idea," Lucifer said. "Who could replace Heaven's greatest warrior? Who will lead the Hellguard when its lord and leader Falls?

"Leave here, young angel. And when Abaddon is mine and his name is stricken from every record in the White City they will speak of the incorruptible Uriel, the greatest leader the Hellguard has ever known."

If Uriel felt any temptation to trust him, any desire to escape the sense of impending doom this place was bringing upon her, it would not have survived one brief glance at Abaddon and the crushed expression he struggled to hide.

"Let him go," Uriel said instead.

The Prince of Lies shook his head. "Pity. It would have been amusing to pit you against each other in the future, but if you will not go then your only use now is as a lesson for your dear liege."

He grasped his hammer, lifting it one-handed with ease.

"Farewell, young angel."

Uriel had not come for a fight. However well she'd guarded against it Lucifer's power had done its work, and as he swung she realized that she could not move her legs or wings, couldn't get out of the way in time—

Abaddon cried out for her with a strangled voice—

At the final moment, Uriel reached for her sword.

In that moment, Uriel learned the power of fear; with such a strength that her arms hurt for it she swung Chaoseater, and this time when the ancient magic burst forth it was aided by the black blade's power, and by the knowledge that Uriel and her beloved would remain prisoners of Hell forever, spoken of only in whispers among the angels if she failed.

Lucifer's hammer bounced right off of Chaoseater, and with a deafening crack Uriel's blow traveled up past it and struck its mark directly in the center of the Dark Lord's face.

Bright blue eyes widened in the silence that followed, and for a horrible moment nothing happened—but then, slowly, ponderously, the great demon tipped backward, crashed thunderously against the ground, and lay still.

* * *

For the second time that day Uriel stood motionless with shock.

Abaddon, however, was once again firmly in possession of his senses: he slipped from the Dark Lord's grip and swept at once to the demon's head, snatching up his fallen sword from the ground as he went. Uriel shook her head to clear it and went to follow, heart pounding—she could hardly believe it!

The archangel buried the tip of his blade under one of the shining jewels and heaved, straining against the dark metal, but it was no use; Uriel caught up and trembling with adrenaline thrust Chaoseater at him.

"Hurry!"

They switched blades and Abaddon tried again, wedging the demonic sword between the jewel and the crown. Chaoseater cut through the black iron like butter, and with a satisfying _clink_ the gem popped out of its place and into Abaddon's hand.

They'd done it!

"Let's go!" Uriel whispered urgently, but Abaddon's eye gleamed with sudden greed, and he dug the twin points of Chaoseater under another jewel—it seemed silly to only liberate one, when such holy artifacts deserved better than to remain hidden away in Hell for eternity.

"We only need one!" she hissed.

But her warning came too late: disappointed by the swift end to the fight, Chaoseater turned on them both. It slipped free of the jewel, and with all of Abaddon's strength bearing down on it was sent crashing to the floor.

In the single moment the angels spent frozen in horror, Lucifer's eyes snapped open.

"Run!" Abaddon cried, scooping Chaoseater up off the ground.

The Prince of Lies roared in anger and humiliation and the very land shook with his rage; gone was the comforting darkness he usually projected and in its place surged an evil so powerful the light in Abaddon's hand actually dimmed for a moment, and as the two angels took flight and darted for the doors as fast as their wings could carry them they felt the demonic citadel come alive.

"Kelev!" Uriel screamed as they crossed the threshold, too frightened to search for the hound behind her.

Like insects from a hive the demons swarmed; scared away by the light of their master's crown several hung back and screeched in pain, but the thundering of hooves and rusting chains against flesh told them they did not have long.

"This way!" Abaddon yelled, shooting through the wide halls at breakneck speed, and Uriel thanked the Creator that the Prince of Lies had built a straight shot from the throne room to the exit.

Under Abaddon's speed and Chaoseater's unnatural strength the doors burst open and amidst the earsplitting screeches of so many demons the angels tore free, rising into the infernal air only to stop dead at the sight of what awaited them there.

"When did—?!"

Some time between their arrival and their attempted departure an impressive green dragon had taken up residence at the main gate, leaving its perch with a deep and mighty cry as it spotted the two angels trying to escape.

With the demonic horde quickly catching up there was no time to lose: Abaddon dove fearlessly forward and held his prize aloft, the jewel's light blazing out across the jagged landscape and cowing the dragon for a moment.

Not long enough. The reptile shook its head, as though clearing it, and with a lunge no creature of its size should have been able to manage closed its jaws around Abaddon's hand.

"Abaddon!"

Too late: with a spurt of blood and a sickening crunch of bone, the hand holding the jewel came off in the beast's mouth.

Several things happened at once. Abaddon gasped, losing his grip on Chaoseater; Uriel shouted wordlessly and dived toward him, unsure of what she intended but having to do something, anything; the dragon shuddered and swallowed, letting out a strange and strangled cry as it seemingly forgot to keep itself in the air.

Uriel reached Abaddon just as his wings failed him and he collapsed against her, his weight bringing them both down alongside the dragon. All of her attention was focused on landing them safely, softening their hard fall without impaling either of them on Abaddon's sword, and so when the dragon lurched and turned its attention back to them she thought wildly that they would meet their end so very close to freedom—

A black blur shot out from the direction of the fortress and collided with the reptilian beast, teeth and claws sliding uselessly against green scales—Kelev had broken through, and though his victory was not guaranteed perhaps—

"A little further," Uriel said to Abaddon, heaving him to his feet and steadying him as he swayed. "Hurry!"

Abaddon clutched at the bloody stump of his wrist, face twisted in agony, but he had known worse pain: Uriel put an arm about his waist and together they launched themselves forward, slipping past the warring beasts and through the main gate.

"Kelev!" Uriel called, warning him before the battered landscape of Hell fell away.

* * *

A great din rose over the mountains as War crested the cliff, and with wide blue eyes he took in the scene below him: demons swarming from within the great citadel, and a familiar black blur detaching itself from the drake at the entrance before darting through and vanishing.

 _Impossible…_

* * *

They appeared in the middle of the square in the White City, not caring what wards they might set off. Recognizing safety at last Abaddon's strength finally gave out, and he slumped against Uriel with a weary sigh.

"We're home," Uriel told him breathlessly, as the White City's well-trained healers quickly recovered from their surprise and rushed to help. "But I… doubt they will allow you to leave again."

Abaddon laughed hoarsely, startling those who moved to take him from her. "I don't need to."

"Then you have a jewel?!" a guard demanded, taking Abaddon's uninjured arm across his shoulders.

Uriel's heart sank, but Abaddon laughed again, holding up the wreck of his wrist.

" _In my hand._ "


	12. Upon the grass untroubling

Chapter 14 will be the last one I have decided. I SHOULDN'T NEED ANY MORE THAN THAT. I'm almost done, I can almost taste my victory...!

Enjoy!

 **Chapter 11: _Upon the grass untroubling_**

Laughing at the expressions of the guards and healers took all the strength Abaddon had been willing to spare, and he allowed darkness to take his mind then without a fight. Those few short seconds had not been nearly enough to allow the relief of being home again to sink in, and at that moment he wanted nothing more than to forget his failure…

When he woke again the first thing he noticed was a dull pain near his wrist. Sluggishly—he'd been sedated, he realized with some distant irritation—he reached with his other hand to rub at it, only to find something missing—

Then he remembered. The jewel. The dragon. And…

With a sigh he allowed his arm to fall limp. It could have been worse. It could have been his sword hand, the hand he wrote with, and he could have spent months or even years relearning tasks he'd been performing flawlessly for millenia. He would probably have a replacement made. But a hand was a hand, and the loss of something so essential he hadn't needed to consciously think about it was…

Well. He'd lost an eye before, too. He'd get used to it…

"My lord…?"

Abaddon's heart jumped, as much as it could while he was so heavily drugged; from somewhere out of his vision appeared Uriel, sleepy-eyed and disheveled in a way he'd never seen her before.

"Uriel…?"

She exhaled shortly and sat at the edge of the bed. A strange gray lump rose from somewhere beyond—Kelev's fur was getting lighter, and growing back in the places where it had been missing before.

"Are you awake?" Uriel asked uncertainly.

At first Abaddon thought that a silly question, only to realize that he couldn't quite find the words to tell her so. "...Perhaps not entirely."

She laughed quietly. "More so than you have been, I think. The healers tell me they had to remove the little figurine on your bedside table because you kept thinking it was an actual bird."

If Abaddon had the strength he would have grimaced. Hopefully the healers weren't terrible gossips.

Uriel sighed and reached for his hand, smiling a little. She was a woman of devotion and strong words, and such a small gesture of affection… When was the last time he'd simply held someone's hand?

"...Are you hurt?" he asked through a dry throat.

Uriel shook her head. "The Prince of Lies had some dark magic which took root in us both, but I am long recovered from it. You, however..."

Had been unconscious. Abaddon sighed. So much for getting out early…

"...What of Azrael?"

"They suspect he is afflicted with something similar, but they cannot extract it from him and he will not awaken to fight it himself." Uriel lowered her gaze. "I don't know how we are going to revive him."

"Azrael..."

This had become quite the disaster, hadn't it? Abaddon turned his gaze from Uriel, only for it to fall upon the wreck of his wrist. The bandages were newly changed and not yet stained with blood, but…

"You are no less whole than you were before now," Uriel said, squeezing his hand.

"Spare me," Abaddon spat. "I'm not in the mood. Did anything important happen before I woke up?"

Uriel's eyes narrowed at the outburst, but as always she said nothing. "I have already been debriefed, and now all they require is your account of events. I don't think they quite believe me, but if I chose to tell a falsehood that is not the lie I would have picked and they know it."

"They have no reason to doubt you," Abaddon said. "But that does still leave the matter of my discipline..."

Uriel pursed her lips. "I have heard nothing of their intentions for you. But..." Her gaze flitted to his wrist for a moment before returning to his face. "Many believe your ordeal has been punishment enough."

Abaddon sighed and closed his eyes. In times of relative peace such as these, that was not out of the realm of possibility. He would simply have to hope…

"...The jewel..."

Uriel squeezed his hand again. "I do not know if they will hold your oath fulfilled. But the die is cast: if you shall suffer for your love, then so must I."

Abaddon twisted his wrist so he could clasp her hand back. Uriel, who treasured law and duty above all else…

"You remain the best of us," Uriel said. "And I will remain by your side."

Abaddon squeezed her hand as hard as he could through his weakness. "I would love you even if you left me, Uriel… I would go on loving you until death took me, or the end of time."

Uriel's hand twitched in his grip, and the bed creaked under them as she laid down and tucked herself under his chin.

"Thank you," she said quietly. "Now rest. We won't have to deal with any of that until you're recovered."

Kelev yawned as if to make her point, and with a soft laugh Abaddon turned to throw his injured arm over her. She was still in her armor and would probably make his wing sore, but the novelty of holding her close was worth it.

* * *

Uriel was almost right.

With Abaddon awake his recovery progressed quickly, and in his absence Uriel was permitted to lead the Hellguard: she had known something of his responsibilities from eons of helping him to bear them, but performing them all alone was something else.

She would not allow herself to bend under its weight however, and threw herself into the work with a zeal she had not known before. By now there was not an angel in Heaven who had not heard the tale of the one who had defeated the Dark Lord in his own hall, and with their support Uriel took to her temporary post well.

Perhaps, a small voice whispered, well enough to make her Abaddon's equal. But between their pledge to each other and the uncertainty of their future she was unsure how she felt about that, or how she ought to feel, and so she resolved to think on it no longer.

Abaddon, meanwhile, was making a point of sleeping less and less so the healers could not keep him drugged as often without his cooperation. Uriel visited him whenever she had the time—which was not terribly often, but often enough that the staff no longer took notice of her.

"I can't wait until tomorrow," he muttered one day, rubbing Kelev's belly. The hound had commandeered the bed when Abaddon rose from it to greet Uriel, leaving the angels to either sit on the floor or stand. "I might even sleep early just to make it come faster."

"So you can be questioned as soon as you get out?" Uriel asked, sitting on the side of the bed when Kelev surreptitiously moved to make room for her.

"If they actually cared they would have done it by now," Abaddon said. "If they do question me it'll only be as a formality, I think."

"Then they've had plenty of time to make their decision."

"I hope so. I tire of waiting. ...What is it?"

Uriel hesitated. "...Azrael?"

Abaddon's wings twitched. "No change."

He and Azrael had been close for much longer than Uriel had been alive, and Uriel ached not only for Azrael's own sake but for Abaddon's pain as well.

She grimaced, but knew better than to try and reassure him. "Any other medical details I should know about?"

"Few that matter until the council has their say. Regrowing my hand is impossible, so I'll have to settle for a prosthetic. After," he said with a glower, "I've regained my full strength."

"You always recover quickly."

"But I am not a patient man, as you well know."

There was a knock on the door then, and both angels straightened at once—though Kelev was too fond of his new bed to do the same. A moment later the door opened to admit not one of the healers, but a soldier in full armor.

"What is it?" Uriel asked sharply.

"Your presence is required at the gate, my lord."

Uriel frowned and rose, Kelev rolling upright on the bed. "Did something happen?"

"Not yet..."

Uriel and Abaddon exchanged glances.

"Stay here," Uriel said. "I will send a messenger or tell you myself, once I know what's going on."

Abaddon scowled, but nodded. "Be careful."

"As always. Come, Kelev!"

The hound obediently bounded off the bed to Uriel's side; the missing patches of his fur had grown in white, leaving him a strange, gray and white-spotted dog.

The guard was clearly not fond of him. "Will that thing's presence be necessary, my lord?"

Uriel only glared at her, and she knew better than to protest further.

* * *

A sizable squad of angels had gathered at the City's entrance, holding their halberds but for the most part at ease. Not an immediate problem then, Uriel judged, but still a likely threat. Could it be…?

She flew up to join them, and felt a sting of apprehension as her suspicions were confirmed.

"Horsemen," she greeted shortly.

And not just War, but all four of them—seated upon their infamous steeds and inscrutable as ever, the last of the Nephilim stood gathered at the White City's gates.

Chaoseater, Uriel noted, had returned to its rightful place on War's back. Hopefully he wouldn't hold a grudge.

"Uriel," Death replied. "Recovering well, I see."

Actually her nails hadn't quite grown back yet. "What brings you to the White City?"

"I have something of yours," War said, reaching down to his side and producing a blade she hadn't seen there until now: the blade she had dropped in Hell.

"I hope it has seen demonic blood since you took it from me."

"None of that," Fury said sharply as War glowered in response. "We're not actually here for a fight, Uriel, so there's no need to be snippy with us. Although it probably has seen demonic blood if I know War..."

"May I have it back, then?" Uriel didn't need it—was holding the replacement right now, in fact—but a sword was a sword, and this particular sword was about the best gesture of goodwill the Horsemen could probably offer.

Fury looked expectantly at her youngest brother, but there was no need; with much less effort than Uriel would have needed he tossed it upward, into Uriel's waiting hand.

"Thank you."

War's glower only grew, but he said nothing more; it seemed he wasn't going to hold Uriel responsible for Chaoseater's betrayal.

Not publicly, at least.

"So about that jewel..." Strife drawled.

"We don't have it. We lost it before we escaped."

"You actually managed to grab one?"

"Don't insult me, Horseman. The story is common knowledge in Heaven. You wouldn't even need your spies to have heard of it."

"We try not to rely on hearsay," Death said. "So for all the effort you put into your foolish scheme, you've returned empty-handed."

Uriel had made her peace with that, remembering that returning empty-handed had been her goal in the first place, but anger swelled within her at the intended insult. "I have singlehandedly felled the Prince of Lies before his own throne! I cannot speak for Abaddon, but my honor remains intact."

Death raised his chin a little. "So it's true."

"If you have Chaoseater you must have been to his stronghold already."

War smirked a little. "He is in a very poor mood."

"That's largely irrelevant however," Death said. "War says you fought a fire drake on your way out of the keep."

"We did," Uriel confirmed with a hint of bitterness. So very, very close…

"It has abandoned Hell and been terrorizing Creation ever since."

Uriel's eyes widened. "It's abandoned Hell? Why?!"

"We were hoping you would know," Fury said. "War claims it went berserk as soon as he arrived, and now it rampages mindlessly across the inhabited worlds."

Uriel had believed the beast to be a minion of the Dark Lord, and even a dragon would never break that pledge once it was given.

Unless…

"It swallowed the jewel," Uriel recalled out loud.

"That would explain it," Strife said, in a tone that strongly suggested he was rolling his eyes. "I guess you owe us a favor, don't you?"

The angel couldn't help the wave of indignation that swept through her. "Why?! We owe you nothing!"

"This mess is your fault in the first place!"

"Your hound attacked us," War added darkly, eyes falling upon Kelev—who by virtue of having to travel on foot had only just now appeared on the ramparts.

"You didn't seem so keen on holding that against us before."

"Enough," Death said. "Debt or not, that thing is clearly feeding on the jewel's power and grows stronger day by day. The White City has as much a duty to get rid of it as we do."

"We are running short on generals, Horseman. I don't believe any of us wants to risk losing another so soon."

Fury tilted her head. "I did wonder why Abaddon hadn't come to greet us..."

"And Azrael hasn't recovered yet," Strife guessed.

Uriel again cursed their spies, only to remember—Azrael was the guardian of the Well. The Charred Council needed him alive as much as they did!

"If you can help with his ailment, we will pledge our support," she said. "It has thus far proved beyond the skill of our healers, but perhaps one trained in magics outside our purview may have more luck."

"A necromancer, you mean."

"There is nothing physically wrong with him, Horseman. His wound does not show."

Death made a considering noise. "Show me. I make no promises, but if I can help then you have a deal."

"Open the gate!" Uriel called at once. If there was something she could do to revive Azrael then by Heaven she would slay that dragon herself!

To either side of her the angels went to do her bidding, and the gates of Heaven opened to admit the Four Horsemen.


End file.
